


Watching the Years Fly by Through the Mustang Window

by Hopeless_1322



Category: 13 Reasons Why (TV)
Genre: Angst and Hurt/Comfort, Anxiety Disorder, Canonical Character Death, Childhood Memories, Friendship/Love, Growing Up Together, Idiots in Love, Multi, Past Rape/Non-con, Post-Canon, Pre-Canon, Self-Harm, Social Anxiety, Suicide, Survivor Guilt
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2017-04-17
Updated: 2018-08-01
Packaged: 2018-10-20 02:59:43
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Major Character Death, Rape/Non-Con
Chapters: 8
Words: 66,320
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10653519
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Hopeless_1322/pseuds/Hopeless_1322
Summary: Sometimes Tony feels as if he's known Clay his entire life. This sentiment honestly isn't that much of an over exaggeration.





	1. Nine

Tony meets Clay for the first time when they’re nine years old, sitting in their third grade classroom on the first day of school. 

The shy boy in the corner who looks like he wants to curl into himself and disappear catches Tony’s attention right off the bat, and for some reason he’s drawn to him. 

Maybe that’s the thing about true friendship, the kind that’s imperfect and rarely presented accurately in the media; it starts off not with inexplicable kindness or something stupid and cheesy like the stars aligning just right or an inconvenient crossing of paths, but a weird and realistic sense of understanding, a moment in which both parties realize that they're in the same dinky rowboat. 

For Tony, that sense of understanding is, ‘Hey, I know how that kid feels. I don’t wanna be here either and I feel kind of uncomfortable, too. Maybe he could use someone to talk with, he looks kind of scared.’

So Tony, noble and brave Tony, takes it upon himself to be that person to immerse in a conversation with the rather scared looking boy sitting across the room. He quickly makes his way over to the other side of the noisy and frankly out of control classroom to plop down in the chair right across from the kid, who looks like he's seriously about to try and tuck himself away inside of his shirt so that he can be a caterpillar and hide in his cocoon. 

“Hey,” Tony greets, smiling wide, shamelessly showing off the gap where his two front teeth should be. “My name’s Tony.”

The boy stares at Tony for a moment in silence, big blue eyes looking him up and down as if analyzing him, looking for some kind of hidden danger. When nothing comes up on his radar, his lips spread into a timid smile and his eyes focus on Tony’s face. 

“Hi. I’m Clay.”

Tony nods, sticking his hand out for a handshake the way his papa always tells him to when introducing himself to people. “Nice to meet you, Clay. Whose class were you in last year?”

“Mrs. Danago,” Clay answers, returning Tony’s handshake, but with a little less vigor. “You?”

“Miss Fereli. I’ve never seen you in my class or on my bus before.”

“I live up by...by the park. I live kinda close to Eisenhower park.”

“Oh. I live on the other side of town,” Tony says. “Guess that’s why I’ve never seen you before.”

Clay nods in agreement. 

“You looked kinda scared over here by yourself. You don’t like school?” Tony asks with a soft smile, trying to be friendly and get the other boy to relax.

Clay’s cheeks turn pink and he squirms in his seat a bit.

“I just….I don’t really...I’m not good at talking. My teacher last year put me this group, this uh….this group where people just kinda talked, you know? Like, it was run by the guidance counselor, and everyone just talked and told stories and stuff. It was….it was weird and I really didn’t like it, but my mom said it was good for me to go. But I don’t really think so. It was just….weird, and I didn’t really do that much talking, I just kinda listened to other people like I usually do, anyway.”

“That does sound kinda weird,” Tony agrees as he scrunches up his face, just as oblivious as Clay is as to why adults take the mysterious actions that they take. “Do you still go to it?”

Clay shakes his head. “I got out of it. I kept begging my mom not to make me go, and just a few days ago she said I didn’t have to anymore this year if it would make me so upset. She’s not happy about it, though.”

“I don’t understand why your teacher last year wanted you to go so bad. You’re talking to me just fine.”

Clay blushes again and shrugs, looking down at his lap. “I’m just...not so good at it, I guess. My mom tries to help by telling me things I should try and talk to other kids in my class about….but, I just….”

Tony frowns and shrugs, sensing that the subject is making his new companion a little uneasy, so he finds a way to try and change the topic. 

“What are you good at since you’re bad at talking?”

Clay shrugs, flushing an even deeper shade of pink. “I...I don’t really know.”

Tony frowns lightly again. “Oh. I thought you’d be like….super good at something. My brother told me once that this one blind guy had, like, really awesome hearing since he couldn't see. I thought maybe since you’re bad at talking you might be really good at something else….it’s kinda like...like….compen….compsten….constipation, you know?”

Clay raises an eyebrow. “What?”

“Constipation? You’re really good at something to make up for the fact that you’re bad at something else? Like how the blind guy had awesome hearing to make up for the fact that he couldn’t see? His good hearing constipated for his sight.”

Clay tilts his head to the side and bites his lip, like he’s mulling over Tony’s words. “Oh. I guess I don’t have anything that, that constipates for my talking.”

Tony smiles at him, a warm smile that makes some of the color in Clay’s cheeks fade away. “I think it’s because you talk just fine. You don’t really gotta constipate for it.”

Clay smiles back at him. He looks much more relaxed now than he had before Tony came over, no longer curled up on his chair and hiding behind his pulled up knees.

“Hey! C’mon class! Let’s settle down so that I can take roll call and we can get started. We’ve got a very busy day ahead of us!” The overly perky teacher says, clapping her hands and trying to gain the attention of all twenty-six of the rowdy children seated around the room. “Ok guys! C’mon! We need to get to work!”

Approximately half of the class stops talking and looks at her. 

That’s more than the teacher was anticipating. 

She smiles around the classroom at her new students, grabs a sheet of paper off her desk, and begins calling out names, checking them off with a pen as she goes along. 

Clay stutters a bit when she calls out his name and his face flushes. 

Tony notices this and frowns, not entirely sure why Clay has so much trouble simply saying, ‘here’ loud enough for the teacher to hear him and mark him present.

Clay has even more trouble later on when the teacher asks everyone to introduce themselves to their classmates by saying their name and anything they damn well please about themselves.

None of the other students really seem to have any problem following the teacher’s instructions, happy and eager to talk about themselves, even if only for a minute or two. Clay has immense trouble when it’s his turn, though. He stares at the teacher in silence with a completely mortified expression on his face.

It’s like he’s forgotten his own name and anything else important about himself.

The teacher pities him and is polite as can be (a common and necessary trait in elementary school teachers), trying to help him along, smiling gently down at him and saying, “You’re name is Clay, isn’t it, honey?”

Clay nods, face bright red and hands twitching in his lap. 

“Alright Clay, why don’t you tell us about a pet you have or where you’re family went on vacation this summer?”

“Uh….I don’t have uh...I don’t h-have a pet,” Clay stammers, eyes glued to his feet, heart hammering in his chest so hard it hurts a little. “I’ve never….n-never had a uh...”

“He lives by Eisenhower Park and he’s good at listening,” Tony quickly pipes up, looking over at Clay with a sympathetic look on his face. 

The teacher looks over at Tony for a minute and nods, accepting his answer as Clay’s. She quickly moves on, sparing the poor, flushed, shaking boy in front of her from any more discomfort if she can help it.

Clay looks over at Tony, a shy and slightly sheepish looking smile on his face. 

“Uh, thanks. A lot.”

Tony smiles back at him, flashing the gap in his mouth again. Clay can’t help but stare at it, wondering if he could fit his pointer and middle finger inside of it.

“No problem, Clay.”  
\---------------------

And it really isn’t a problem for Tony. 

He doesn’t understand why Clay is so shy when called on in class or when subjected to the company of other kids, but he doesn’t mind helping him out, being his voice if he knows what Clay’s trying to say. 

Tony answers for Clay in class if the teacher calls on him and he chokes up (which often results in the teacher sighing and saying, ‘Tony, I called on Clay. Please raise your hand if you have something to say, okay?’). He also introduces Clay to other kids and tries to help engage him in the conversation, but he automatically backs off if Clay shows any clear signs of distress, as he’d never want to make things harder on him.

Tony even asks the teacher if Clay can use the restroom once during class, which causes Clay much more discomfort than asking himself would have ever caused.

Tony talks for him, gives Clay a voice when he can't muster up his own, but Tony also talks with him, encouraging Clay to use his own words and communicate. Every morning before class starts, Tony sits beside Clay, whether or not that’s his assigned seat, and strikes up a conversation. 

Sometimes they talk about Tony’s family, more specifically Tony’s brothers and sister. Tony usually complains about something one of his brothers did, whether it be shoving him down in the yard and making him eat grass or stealing his comic books, and Clay always listens, nodding and sometimes failing to hold in his laughter. Tony’s not so sure why Clay is so interested in his brothers or why he enjoys stories about his huge, disorderly family, but he doesn’t mind lamenting about it if Clay’s interested. 

Tony has a hunch that maybe Clay’s interest has something to do with him being an only child, which strikes Tony’s interest in return, because he honestly cannot imagine a quiet house not full of boisterous teenage boys fighting over whose turn it is to do the dishes and a sister whining at them all to shut up.

He can’t comprehend the proper, clean, nearly silent house that Clay claims he comes from (which, in Tony’s mind, makes a lot of sense actually. As much as he can’t picture a serene household, he also can’t picture a soft-spoken, shy kid like Clay coming from a house like his own where no one ever shuts up, and if it’s quiet it’s because someone just died or no one’s home).

Other times they talk about movies that they’ve seen or want to see. Tony is surprised by how talkative Clay becomes when they breach this subject, as he has several things to say about the Star Wars movies…..which Tony has never seen but he claims that he has just because he likes listening to Clay go on and on about them. 

He loves watching how animated and excited Clay gets when discussing light sabers and the force.

Occasionally they talk about music together. Clay admits that he doesn’t really get to listen to much music, as his father needs the house to be quiet for his work and his mom hates it when the radio's on in the car. Tony gladly fills Clay in on all he’s missing as far as music, telling him about the tapes and CDs his brothers have accumulated over the years, detailing their clashing tastes in music and describing the epic battles in the car over who gets to choose what they listen to, each of his brothers claiming that the other’s taste in tunes is complete crap. 

Tony genuinely enjoys his daily conversations with Clay, he thinks Clay is a pretty nice kid, and he’s starting to figure out how to draw him out of his shell, figuring out what things to say to engage him and what to do to make him feel comfortable and at ease around him. 

He likes Clay, even if a lot of the other kids in their class barely register his existence or don’t bother to remember his name. Clay jokes about it sometimes, his lack of friends in the class besides Tony and a select few others he’s willing to talk to, saying that he likes to just sink into the background and have people leave him alone. 

Tony smiles understandingly, but always secretly swears to himself that he’ll always be there so that Clay never has to be alone like he was on the first day of school ever again.

\------------

One morning when Tony slides into the chair next to Clay's, three months into school, he comments on the other boy's National Geographic magazine, the month’s edition featuring a weird looking mix between a zebra and a donkey on the front cover.

The two end up flipping through the magazine, gawking at the photos, and talking about animals. Clay, Tony learns, has always wanted a pet despite his mother’s insistence that it’s a bad idea. He’s always wanted a dog to play with and take care of, a dog to talk to when he’s lonely and to keep him company when his mom is at work and his dad locks himself up in his office.

Tony beams after learning this because, hey, he has a dog, a big, slobbery mutt they call Carlo, and he tells Clay that if he comes over to his house that he can play with his dog and even pretend that it’s his if he wants to. Clay smiles at him and promises to ask his mom.

The conversation about animals is what sets up their first time hanging out outside of school. 

Tony is absolutely ecstatic when Clay says he got the okay from his mom the next day, saying he can come over on Friday….meekly adding in ‘if that’s okay with you and your family’.

Tony makes certain that Clay in no way has any doubts that it’s totally, one hundred percent a-okay for him to come over on Friday, even inviting him to stay over for dinner if he wants to, assuring him that his mama won’t mind it at all.

“My mama’s really gonna like you,” Tony tells him with a smile.

“Why?” Clay asks curiously. 

“She always says that she wishes she had a quiet kid who didn’t make her ears bleed.”

\-----------------

When Friday does roll around, (finally, it feels like it’s been ten weeks but miraculously with no Fridays) Clay doesn’t feel nearly as nervous as he thought he would. 

This is particularly odd because Clay is almost ALWAYS nervous. He overheard his mom describing him as ‘anxious and shy’ to his Aunt Bea last Thanksgiving when he sat at the dinner table, completely silent and picking at his food, isolating himself instead of running around in the backyard with his cousins like a 'normal boy'.

Clay was sure he’d be scared about going to Tony’s house, a place he’s never been before with people he’s never met, considering how nervous he was about going to his own aunt’s house. Going over to Tony’s should really be just as nerve-wracking, if not more so, but Clay is genuinely excited.

He wants to go over to Tony’s house, wants to get to spend more time hanging out with Tony than the few minutes they have in the morning before their classmate, Justin Foley, comes over and grumbles about Tony hogging his seat and the half hour they have at lunch. 

Clay’s lack of anxiety over going to the Padillas house has his parents slightly shocked, as neither of them can recall a time when Clay really interacted with any of his classmates on this level. Last year Mrs. Jensen had to practically force him to attend a few birthday parties, and when she picked him up and asked him if he had fun he always had very little to say and was flushed as if feverish or uncomfortable.

Clay’s mother is slightly concerned, despite not being able to cite any real reason behind her worries, and Clay’s father is more than welcoming of his son’s change in attitude, telling his wife: “It’s good that he wants to go! Don’t try and talk him out of it by asking him if he’s sure he wants to go. He does, and the only reason he’ll change his mind is because you made him feel anxious about it.”

Mrs. Jensen can’t shake her worries though, nervous about her son’s sudden shift in attitude and assuming that maybe the only reason her husband isn’t concerned is because it’s a motherly intuition thing that he just doesn’t quite get. She can’t help herself, she can’t be completely sure that this is alright until she’s positive that her son actually wants to go. 

When dropping Clay off at school the next morning, she asks him as he’s getting ready to hop out of her car, “Are you sure you want to go over to Tony’s house? Are you sure you want me to pick you up after dinner? Because it’s okay if you don’t want to go or if you want me to pick you up earlier, I’ll even leave work early if you need me to.”

Clay feels himself smile as he opens the car door and slides out, grabbing his backpack. “No, it’s okay, mom. I’m sure.”

Mrs. Jensen stares at her son warily for a moment before nodding. “Alright, honey, I’ll see you around seven, okay? If you need me just call. You remember the number for my office, right?”

Clay nods. 

“Alright, have a good day, baby. Call me if you need anything.”

“Okay, see you tonight, mom,” Clay says, leaning through her open window briefly to allow his mother to place a kiss to the crown of his head before turning around and running towards the school’s entrance.

Mrs. Jensen watches him go until her face suddenly contorts with worry. “Oh, Clay! Wait!”

Clay freezes on the bottom step leading up to the school entrance, turning back around. 

“Make sure you thank Mr. and Mrs. Padilla, okay?”

Clay smiles and nods. “I will, mom.”  
\-----------------

Tony is just as, if not more, excited about having Clay come over to his house. He had spent the entirety of dinner the previous night telling his brother, Mateo, that he was going to have bring in an extra chair from the deck because he was having a friend over who was going to be using his seat. 

Things went south quickly, with Tony slowly becoming more and more angry as Mateo continued to claim that he wasn't willing to give up his seat, encouraging Tony’s other brothers to all claim that they wouldn’t give up their seats either. This continued until Mr. Padilla interrupted them, sternly telling them to leave their little brother alone and putting an end to their shenanigans.

Tony’s sister, Sophia, helped her little brother clear the table after dinner and promised him that she’d give up her seat for his friend if none of their brothers would. 

Sometimes Sophia makes Tony secretly wish he had three sisters and one brother instead.

“Hey Clay,” Tony greets with a smile that’s ten times wider than it usually is in the mornings. 

“Hey, Tony,” Clay replies, smiling right back at him.

“So, I just wanted to uh...to tell you a few things before you get to my house because my house is a lot different than yours and so is my family, because my house isn’t quiet….at all, and my family can be a little loud and a little….wild sometimes. Mostly my brothers, they can be kinda mean, but they’re actually pretty cool. You don’t really gotta worry about them though, because my mama yelled at them all last night after dinner and told them that if they don’t make you feel welcome, they’ll be sorry, so they should be really nice to you."

Clay nods, to show that he's processing this information.

Tony nods in return, now sporting a sheepish smile, and continues his rundown:

"My mama can be kinda chatty, she REALLY wants to meet you, too, so she might kinda try and trap you at the kitchen table to talk to you. I’ll try and save you, though, so don’t worry. My dad doesn’t really talk much, but that’s not ‘cuz he doesn’t like you, he’s just always pretty quiet unless my brothers make him mad, and then he yells real loud, but he probably won’t with you there because my mama’ll get all embarrassed. My sister should leave you alone, but she’s not really much of a tease like my brothers can be. It’s not really that big of a deal, I just….I just thought I should tell you since you don’t have any siblings."

Clay smiles at him and shakes his head. He honestly can’t imagine a house where someone like Tony is from can be half-bad. “I’m sure it’s fine, Tony. I seriously can’t wait.”

Tony’s smile widens and he nods. “Neither can I. My mama said-”

“You’re always in my seat, Padilla,” Justin mumbles as he crosses his arms over his chest and gives Tony a look of annoyance and contempt. “Every morning, I come in and you’re in my seat. What’s wrong with your own?”

Tony looks over his shoulder at Justin for a moment before slowly getting up. “Sorry,” he says with a quick nod, not trying to make anyone angry. He doesn’t mean to get Justin so frustrated with him, he even offered to switch seats with him once so that he could sit next to Clay without taking up Justin's seat in the morning, but Justin refused because Tony sits next to a girl in their class named Skye Miller, who he claimed is weird and cries too much. 

Tony smiles again at Clay again before he returns to his seat. “I’ll talk to you at lunch.”

Clay smiles back at Tony as he heads across the classroom to his own seat. 

Justin scoffs as he looks at Clay and then over at Tony. 

The two of them are weird with each other, the Jensen kid not really bothering to interact with anyone but Padilla and Padilla acting like his mom, talking for him in class whenever he can and practically shadowing him in the hallways.

It’s weird, and maybe Justin would spend more time snarking at them if his buddies and him weren’t so focused on torturing the Miller girl for crying in class last week during the lockdown drill.  
\-----------------

“You ready?” Tony asks with a smile, shouldering on his backpack and walking down the hallway with Clay in tow after class lets out.

Clay smiles at him and nods, following him out of the school building and to the parking lot, listening contently to Tony drone on and on about the newest Batman comic that his brother picked up from the gas station. They board the bus and Clay can’t help but grin when one of their classmates laughs at him and tells him that he’s on the wrong bus, only to have Tony whip right around to set them straight: “He’s comin’ over to my house, Hudson. Shut up.”

It’s possibly the greatest moment in Clay’s life up until this point. 

The ride is long, Tony having one of the last stops, but Clay doesn’t mind at all. Tony talks the entire ride, pointing at random houses they go by and talking about who lives there and what they’re like: 

‘See that big brick one? Mr. Hentworth lives there. He really hates my brothers, he called the township on them once for blasting music and speeding down the street over and over again. He called them Beaner hooligans because they knocked over his mailbox. See that other house, Clay? That one with the dandelions everywhere in the yard and all the gnomes? Mr. and Mrs. Sala live there, they have like eight pet birds. I’ve been in there once because my sister was teaching their grandson how to play the piano and she took me with her. I saw all the birds, they just fly around the house and poop everywhere. The house is way nicer on the inside than it looks from the outside. It’s all, like…..vintagey, but with bird poop all over the place.’

When they finally do arrive at the Padilla’s and hop off the bus, the first thing Clay sees is a huge brown dog prancing around the front yard on its leash, drool dripping from his pink jaw in long strands that remind Clay of the icicles that hang off the ledges of the shelves in his freezer.

“This is Carlo. Don’t be afraid, he doesn’t bite or anything, he’s just…..big and slobbery,” Tony says with a grin, approaching his dog with an outstretched hand and allowing him to lap at it until it’s visibly slimy and drenched with canine saliva. 

Clay smiles shyly, apprehensively approaching the dog and doing as Tony did, offering it his hand to lick and sniff exuberantly. He jumps a bit when the dog goes for his torso instead of his hand, butting his head into Clay’s side and sniffing at his arm.

“H-how long have you had him?” Clay asks, smiling down as the big dog jostles him a little, trying to jump up on him to get to his face. 

“Uh, probably- siéntate! Siéntate! Probably, like, two years? I remember he was a cute puppy when we got him, a lot smaller than- dije siéntate! A lot smaller but still a lot bigger than the other dogs in the kennel,” Tony says with a huff, tugging at Carlo’s chain, trying to get him to stop jumping up. “Sorry, he’s kinda excited to meet someone new.”

Clay smiles, taking a step back to avoid getting knocked over. “It’s okay, he seems nice. My aunt’s dog isn’t, he tries to snap at people and he almost bit me once when I tried to touch him.”

“Yeah, Carlo’s never tried to bite anyone, he’s just….he doesn’t understand that he isn’t a small dog and he tries to get up on people.”

“Tony! Don’t let the dog jump all over him, bring him in the house! Tony!” 

Clay turns around to see a woman sticking her head out through an open kitchen window, shielding her eyes from the sun with her hand. 

“Ok, mama,” Tony replies quickly, directing Clay towards the front door and opening it for him like a little gentleman. 

Clay feels slightly awkward standing in the Padillas front entrance, not sure if he should shuck his shoes off like his mom always makes him do before going inside his own home or not. When Tony proceeds into the kitchen with his sneakers still on, Clay assumes it’s alright for him to keep his shoes on too and follows. 

“Mama, this is my friend, Clay,” Tony says with an impossibly wide smile, motioning towards the boy standing behind him. 

Mrs. Padilla smiles down at her son’s friend, easily picking up on his unease, tipped off by his flushed cheeks and fidgeting. “Hello, Clay. My son talks about you all the time, it’s nice to finally meet you. Your mom knows you’re here, right?”

Clay nods, quickly shaking Mrs. Padilla’s hand when she offers it to him. He can’t meet her eyes, no matter how hard he tries. He knows it’s rude not to make eye contact with people when they’re speaking to him or when he’s speaking to them, his mom has told him at least a dozen times, but eye contact is something he still has trouble with. 

“That’s good. My other boys used to bring friends home and they didn’t tell their parents ahead of time, so I’d get a bunch of calls from frantic parents looking for their children. I once had the police show up at my front door.”

Clay manages to smile wider, sitting down next to Tony at the kitchen table. 

“You two are home just in time, I just finished a batch of cookies and you get first dibs at them. You don’t have any food allergies, do you Clay?” Mrs. Padilla asks, setting the just recently cooled tray down on the kitchen table in front of them. 

Clay shakes his head. 

“Alright, that’s good. Tony didn’t know when I asked him yesterday, so to be safe I didn’t use any nuts, but there’s milk in them and I wasn’t sure if you consumed dairy products or not. Do you?”

Clay nod, unable to bite back another smile. He finds Tony's mom to be very friendly and thoughtful, making it easier to act like a 'normal boy' in her presence. 

“You’re really lucky, Clay. Usually my mama just picks up a big tub of cookies from Costco that aren’t that great, but since you came over she made them herself,” Tony says with a smile, snatching a cookie off the tray. 

Mrs. Padilla shoots her son a look that makes him shrink back in his chair slightly. 

The front door bangs open, making Clay jump. A few seconds later a teenage girl comes into the kitchen, unceremoniously dropping her heavy backpack on the kitchen tile with a thud and eyeing up Clay with a small smile.

“Hi, mama. How was your day?” She asks, seating herself across the table from Clay and Tony, grabbing a cookie off the tray.

“Not eventful, how was yours, Sophia?”

“Fine. I think I did well on my chem test, which is good….because I forgot to study for it.”

Mrs. Padilla sighs in exasperation and rolls her eyes. “Because you put it off until the last second! I told you, over and over again this week, ‘study now, study now and watch TV later’ but you didn’t listen!”

Sophia smiles smugly, clearly unconcerned. “But I’m pretty sure I passed anyway, mama.”

Mrs. Padilla sighs again, as if completely overwhelmed. “One of these days it’ll catch up to you and you’ll fail. Study, don’t put it off, just do it.”

Sophia just smirks again before her eyes shift back over to Clay. “Is this your friend, Tony?”

Tony beams. “Yeah, this is Clay. Clay, this is my older sister Sophia.”

“Nice to meet you, Clay,” Sophia says, reaching out over the tabletop for a handshake. “My brother spends the majority of dinner these days talking about you.”

Clay feels himself flush again as he shakes her hand, trying to make his smile less shaky and awkward. “Nice to meet you, too.”

“Tony, you might wanna get him upstairs before the quarrelsome trio gets home. The middle school bus comes by in ten minutes and Javier gets back from his high school tutoring session in half an hour,” Sophia advises, taking another cookie off the tray. 

Tony nods in agreement, grabbing Clay by the wrist and starting to pull him out of the kitchen. “Yeah, my brother’s can be a bit much, Clay, we should go upstairs to the attic. They don’t bother going up there most of the time.”

“They shouldn’t bother you no matter what, I told them I’d make them sorry if they pulled anything!” Mrs. Padilla shouts after them.

Clay just smiles, allowing Tony to pull him out into the hallway and up the staircase. 

Mrs. Padilla smiles as they leave, leaning against the counter and letting out a soft sigh. “I’m almost tempted to take pictures,” she tells her daughter with a grin. “The first time one of my boys brought someone home, nothing goes awry and the kid isn’t una joda pequeña.”

Sophia smirks and nods in agreement. “Yeah, something tells me that this kid doesn’t sell cigarettes in the hallway or take part in adding to the graffiti on the side of the elementary school.”

Mrs. Padilla laughs and wipes at the tears threatening to roll down her cheeks. “I like him. He’s nice, quiet, and Tony seems very fond of him.”

“Of course he does, couldn’t you tell after the third dinner when alls he had to talk about was his new comic books and this Clay kid, mama?”  
\--------------

Clay learns quickly that one must watch their step in the Padilla’s attic, as it’s practically a minefield. Boxes full of various pieces of half-broken furniture, spare car parts, old clothes, and tools are everywhere and their sole purpose, besides storing things, is tripping people up. 

Tony, a prideful host, is exuberant to show Clay his the attic. He plops in one of his brother’s classic rock tapes for them to listen to while he shows Clay some of the cooler things stored in the attic, things he probably shouldn’t be showing Clay. Things his mama would be embarrassed about and Clay’s mom would be infuriated to have had her nine and a half-year old exposed to. 

He shows Clay his brother Javier’s self-tattooing supplies: a few bottles of indian ink in various colors, several pages covered in hand drawn designs (some just rough scribbles and others extremely detailed), various needles, rubbing alcohol, and swabs. Clay seems rather impressed, asking Tony with wide eyes if he’s ever watched his brothers tattoo themselves, to which Tony answers with a conspiratorial grin and a sly nod. 

Tony also shows Clay one of his brother’s glass bongs, hidden underneath one of the rafters. 

“I’m not entirely sure how this thing works, but I found it a month ago. I know I’m not supposed to have found it since it was hidden so well,” Tony explains, gingerly handling it as if he’s showing Clay an ancient artifact found within the Paris catacombs that could crumble at any moment. 

“Whoa, what does it do?”

Tony shrugs, handing it over to Clay for him to inspect it himself. “I have no idea. It does something bad though, since one of my brother’s hid it.”

Tony also shows Clay some really neat, stretchy, odd shaped balloons he found hidden along with the bong and they have a blast blowing them up until they pop. 

To say the least, Javier is in for a nasty surprise the next time he has the house to himself and invites his girlfriend over. ‘I swear to fucking God, I just bought some from the drug store a month ago!’  
\---------------------

When dinner time rolls around, Tony escorts Clay to the table and is happy to see that Mateo has surrendered his seat and brought in an extra chair from the deck without any complaints. 

“This your friend, Tony?” Javier asks as Clay seats himself.

“Yeah, this is Clay,” Tony says with nod as he grabs a plate for himself and a plate for his guest. “Clay, these are my brothers, Javier, Mateo, and Dante.”

Clay forces a twitchy smile and quickly looks around at all of them. They’re all a little intimidating, especially with the way Tony’s talked them up and given Clay a preconceived distasteful mental image of them. 

“You in Tony’s class, Clay?” Mateo asks him, quickly taking note of the kid’s discomfort and deciding to lay off on any jokes.

“Yeah.”

“You been in his class before this year?” 

“No.”

Tony sets a plate full of box mashed potatoes and pork down in front of Clay with a smile, trying to ease his nerves. 

“Thanks.”

“No problem.”

“Your father’s going to be late, he called me before leaving and said that the traffic out by Route 56 was bad, so we’ll have to eat without him. He said not to hold up,” Mrs. Padilla says, sitting down at the head of the table. 

“Wow, traffic must be fuckin-”

“Javier!” Sophia and Mrs. Padilla snap at the same time.

“Sorry, the traffic must be really bad if he’s telling us not to wait.”

“Yeah, he almost always makes us wait, even if it’ll take him half an hour,” Dante agrees.

“Clay, do you say grace at your house?” Mrs. Padilla asks softly.

Clay rarely eats with both of his parents anymore due to his mom’s work schedule, and his dad isn’t really into religious practices, it’s always been his mom who initiates grace. This means he’ll typically say grace twice a week before dinner. 

“Not really.”

Mrs. Padilla smiles warmly in a way that signals that Clay being unfamiliar with this practice is acceptable. “That’s okay. We say it here every night, but don't worry, just hold Tony and Mateo’s hands. You don’t have to say a thing, okay?”

Clay smiles back at her and nods, feeling oddly at ease despite the fact that something he's completely unprepared for and has no idea how to handle is about to take place. Mrs. Padilla is just so calm and welcoming, she makes Clay feel like it’s alright that he’s not sure what’s going on and makes him feel okay with not being familiar with their customs. She has a very similar affect on him as that of her youngest son.

Everyone at the table joins hands and lowers their heads and Mrs. Padilla clears her throat before beginning. 

“Bendícenos Señor, bendice estos alimentos que por tu bondad vamos a recibir, bendice las manos que los prepararon dale pan al que tiene hambre y hambre de ti al que tiene pan,” she says, her eyes closed.

“Amen,” all of her children reply solemnly in unison before lifting their heads, letting go of each other’s hands, and beginning to eat.

“So, Clay, are you in Tony’s class this year?” Dante asks casually as he dumps at least half of the salt from the salt shaker onto his potatoes. 

“I just asked that, dumb ass!"

“Language!” Mrs. Padilla warns, warily eyeing up sons warily. She has a feeling that the cussing may be a problem as the evening progresses if these children are the same children she spends all day reprimanding. 

“Sorry.”

“Mama, Carlo keeps barking. Should I let him in before Mr. Hentworth calls the township and reports us for disturbing the peace?” Sophia asks, moving across the kitchen to close the window and muffle the dogs miserable sounding baying and whining.

“Yes, but close him in the family room so he doesn’t jump all over poor Clay,” Mrs. Padilla instructs. 

Dante rolls his eyes. “You met our dog, Clay?”

Clay nods. 

“He’s always real wound up when we have people over, he knocked down Tucker in the yard last time I had him over. He just doesn’t realize how big he is. Too bad we can’t train him to plow over Hentworth everytime he comes out to get his mail.”

“Shut up, Dante, all you ever do is run your godda-, is run your mouth,” Javier mutters, rolling his eyes. 

“You know, we wouldn’t have these issues if we hadn’t gotten a dog and had gotten a cat like I wanted to,” Sophia chirps matter-of-factly, that smug smile of hers making an encore appearance. 

“You shut up too, Soph. You can’t walk a cat, you can’t train a cat, you can’t do anything with cats.”

“Yeah you can! I’ve seen cat leashes to walk your cat on. And what does it matter if you can’t train a cat? It’s not like anyone really bothered to train Carlo to do anything but come, sit, and not get up on the furniture.”

“But cats aren’t affectionate like dogs are, they don’t wag their tails and greet you when you get home, they just keep to themselves and dart around by the curtains.”

“Cats are affectionate! They curl up on your lap and let you hold them.”

“Yeah, but they’re all….all selective and picky. Like, families that have cats always say that the cat only likes one or two people in the household. Dogs love everybody and let anybody pet and love them.”

“You’re just scared that if we got a cat it’d like me and not you.”

“Since when does anything, human or animal, like you?”

Sophia reels back, glaring heatedly across the table at her offending brother. “Cállate! You’re the unlikeable one, not me! Eres gilipolla!”

The kitchen goes silent for a moment, all of the brothers, including Tony, looking at their mama and waiting for her to harshly reprimand their sister for her slip of tongue. But Mrs. Padilla doesn't say anything, hoping that if she just lets it slide, everyone will move on with the conversation without translating her daughter's foul language to Clay.

“Oh, so she’s allowed to cuss if she does it in Spanish?” Javier says sarcastically with a roll of his eyes when their mother still says nothing. “Fine. Sophia, eres una pu-”

“Shut your mouths and eat,” Mrs. Padilla interrupts sternly, clearly tired of their petty arguement. “All of you, quit it. Sophia, apologize to your brother, Javier, apologize to your sister, and then shut up and eat.”

“I’m sorry,” both siblings mutter half-heartedly at the same time, not looking at each other, both of their eyes fixed to their dinner plates.

Mrs. Padilla rolls her eyes and lets out a heavy sigh, muttering something about her children always spouting complete nonsense and quarreling just to make noise and irritate her.

Tony shoots Clay a sheepish smile, having a hunch dinners at his house aren’t like this at all. 

He’s relieved and a bit surprised when Clay smiles right back at him, showing no signs of discomfort.  
\-----------------

Mrs. Jensen arrives at the Padilla residence at exactly seven o’clock, not a minute sooner nor a minute later.

“Hello, you must be Lainie Jensen?” Mrs. Padilla greets as she opens the front door. It’s been ages since Mrs. Padilla has interacted with a parent and said parent isn’t fuming at her for something her boys talked their child into doing or something her boys did to their child. It’s a nice change, a fresh breath of air.

Mrs. Jensen smiles politely and nods. “Yes, and you must be Tony’s mom?”

“Yes, call me Maya,” Mrs. Padilla insists with a smile, initiating a warm handshake. 

“Thank you so much for having my son over and letting him stay for dinner.”

“It was no problem at all! Your boy is quiet as a mouse and very polite, he’s more than welcome in my house any time,” Mrs. Padilla says with the cordial smile of a volunteer at the REC bingo night and a flippant flick of her wrist. The smile drops automatically when she turns around, ducking back in the doorway, and screams, “TONY! CLAY’S MOM IS HERE! TONY!”

Mrs. Jensen can’t help but jump. 

She nearly jumps again when Mrs. Padilla turns back around, all smiles and nothing unpleasant. It’s hard to believe that a scream so loud just came from a woman so petite and darling.

“Hi, mom,” Clay says with a smile, trotting down the staircase with Tony behind him. “Just give me a second to get my backpack from the kitchen.”

“Hi, Mrs. Jensen!” Tony greets with a smile before following his friend around the corner. 

“My boy just adores your son. He comes home almost every night and talks about him,” Mrs. Padilla says, keeping up small talk until the boys return to avoid that awkward silence that can hang heavy between strangers. Although, any awkwardness between Lainie and Maya resulting from a patch of silence wouldn’t be nearly as bad as the silence Maya has experienced between herself and other parents, usually settling in after the second party threatens half-heartedly to press charges or calls one of her sons a bad influence.

Mrs. Jensen smiles pleasantly back at her. “Clay was so excited to come over here today, and I was honestly surprised because, I don’t know if you noticed or not, but my son is very shy. He usually just keeps to himself.”

Mrs. Padilla laughs and shakes her head. “Well, like I said, he’s welcome back here anytime. I love quiet kids, I wish I’d had five of them.”

Clay reappears behind Mrs. Padilla in the doorway, now with his backpack slung over his scrawny shoulders. He steps outside to join his mother, turning around to wave goodbye and thank Mrs. Padilla for being so welcoming when he’s interrupted abruptly by Tony, who wraps his arms around Clay’s shoulders and pulls him close, resting his head on his shoulder and giving his torso a gentle squeeze. 

“Thanks for coming, I know you don’t really like meeting new people and everything. Maybe you wanna do it again sometime?” Tony mutters hopefully. 

Clay feels his face heat up and his lips pull into a smile. “Yeah, yeah sure. I’ll have you over to my house next time, but I have to warn you, it’s not nearly as interesting as your house is.”

“I don’t know, I’m kind of excited. I’ve never been in a quiet house before,” Tony jokes, pulling back ever so slightly to smile at Clay, eyes crinkled up with silent laughter. 

Clay grins back at him and finds himself holding his breath when Tony leans forward ever so slightly to bump their foreheads together, giving him one last warm squeeze before releasing him.

The moment easily trumps Tony back talking their classmate on the bus as the single best moment in Clay’s Jensen’s nine year’s on the planet thus far.

Clay can’t stop blushing until he’s halfway home. 

The smile won’t fade until he falls asleep.


	2. Ten

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> As always, feel free to leave suggestions in the comments or just stop by to say ‘hi’ and tell me what you thought.

Tony and Clay both go sledding for the first time on a humid, muggy day in mid-May when they’re ten.

The fiasco starts on the last day of school before spring break. The 4th grade classroom is in a complete state of chaos, the children practically crawling up the walls, all of them itching to rush out of the school like a prepubescent tsunami and flood into the yellow buses in a whirlwind of commotion and craziness.

The poor teacher has just about screamed himself hoarse and consequently resigned himself to sitting behind his desk, chewing his bottom lip and anxiously twiddling his thumbs as he watches his pupils race around the perimeter of the room, yelling and screaming like a pack of mentally disturbed hyenas.

The teacher would be more concerned for his job if he couldn’t hear childrens’ shouts of wild excitement from other classrooms echoing down the hallway. 

Among the classroom’s craziness is a single haven of serenity: a quiet corner in the back of the room occupied by Clay Jensen and Tony Padilla. The two sit side by side, knees touching as they flip through a Superman comic that Tony stole from underneath Dante’s bed. They both watch their rambunctious classmates, Tony looking slightly amused and Clay looking utterly unnerved by the disorder.

“Brainiac is so overrated,” Tony mutters with a snort as he flips the page, smirking to himself excitedly as he waits for Clay’s response. 

Clay, as usual, doesn’t disappoint, quirking a questioning eyebrow and shooting Tony the infamous ‘look’ that he’s become quite familiar with over the year and a half that they’ve been friends. Clay regularly scrunches up his face and side-eyes Tony whenever he disagrees with him or thinks that he’s full of crap. 

“Why do you think Brainiac is overrated? If any Superman villain is overrated, it’s Kalibak.”

Tony snorts again and shakes his head. “Kalibak? No, no, Kalibak actually has a purpose and does things, he’s a trained warrior and he has fighting skills. Brainiac doesn’t have fighting skills, he’s just a robot nerd disguised as an alien who wants to shrink cities. He’s like a less grumpy version of my papa, but instead of collecting beer cans he collects famous cities.”

Clay laughs in retaliation and rolls his eyes. “Kalibak is just pathetic and wimpy. Yeah, he can fight and he’s a warrior, but he’s not nearly as good of a fighter as he needs to be to defeat Superman or even hold his own against his dad. All he ever really does is whine about how his dad doesn’t love him and try to win over his dad’s love and attention.”

“All Brainiac ever does is shrink cities to put in jars and add to his collection….. And sometimes bother Lois Lane.”  


“Yeah, but Brainiac is really smart and he doesn’t need his da-”

Clay is abruptly cut off when Justin Foley literally runs into him, tearing through the corner of serenity like a twister through a slipshod shack in Alabama. He trips over Tony’s legs and lands across Clay’s lap with a wince before quickly scrambling back to his feet to continue chasing his friend around the classroom like a crazed madman. 

It doesn’t seem to cross Justin's mind to think to apologize to the two people he just trampled, and he takes off without so much as an apologetic glance.

“If I was being half as loud as everyone in here, my mom would kill me,” Clay mutters disdainfully, watching Justin run off with an irritated glare. 

Tony chuckles and nods, knowing that Clay’s quip isn’t all that much of a joke. There have been several times when Tony has been over at Clay’s house and the two of them have been kicked outside for talking or laughing too loudly.

“Everyone’s just really excited to get out of school for a week,” Tony reasons with an apathetic shrug. “I’m pretty excited too, I mean, seven whole days without any stupid school work or having to deal with people like Justin. Sounds pretty good, right?”

Clay’s glare is swiftly wiped away by Tony’s smile, his face un-scrunching and his mouth going slack. “Yeah. I’m just sick of some of the other kids in our grade…. they’ve really been getting on my nerves… especially Montgomery. He’s seriously nothing but a jerk and I’m sick of him acting like he’s better than everyone else.”

Tony’s smile falters and his eyes drift around the classroom, shifting through the swarm of crazed 4th graders until they locate the familiar, smug face that Clay speaks of. 

“I don’t like him either, he’s really mean…. especially to you.”

Clay shrugs, cheeks flushing a light pink. “He’s mean to everyone, Tony, not just me. He thinks he’s better than everybody else because his dad is the coach of the baseball team, and he goes to all of these far away places for vacation during spring break and summer vacation that I can’t even find on a map.”

Tony sighs, watching as Montgomery and two of his friends shove one another around and snort like goons, their trajectory clearly set on a poor group of shy girls who have gathered near the doorway to avoid being trampled and trodden on by their wild classmates. 

“I know…. You heard him yesterday, didn’t you?”

Clay nods with a roll of his eyes. “Yeah, he went on and on about how he’s going up to Alaska for the week to ski and see some mountain with a name that I’m not even going to try to say right. He said some stuff about a national forest too, and going out boating and fishing in his dad’s bow rider. He and his friend Bryce kinda got into an argument over it.”

Tony snorts. “Bryce Walker? The kid from Mrs. Linden’s class? Why’d they get into an argument? I thought they got along fine.”

Clay’s lips pull up into a little smirk that makes Tony laugh.

“They usually do, but I guess they were kinda trying to outdo one another. After Montgomery bragged about going to Alaska, Bryce started talking about how that was boring compared to all the cool stuff he was going to do in Jamaica. He started talking about how he was gonna see all kinds of sea life and how all the world’s best water parks will be there for him to go to. Montgomery then told Bryce that there wasn’t anywhere to go snowboarding in Jamaica, and Bryce told him that inner tubing is better anyway. It was kinda funny to watch them try to prove that they were going on a better vacation. The whole thing was stupid, though, like…. It was a big contest over nothing.”

Tony nods in agreement. “Yeah, it was a rich-kid contest that we witnessed, Clay. Those are always the worst.”

“Well…. It’s not even them trying to get a leg up on eachother, they were making fun of Justin because he’s staying here over the break.”

“A lot of us are staying here over the break, including you and me,” Tony says, raising an eyebrow.

“Yeah, yeah, I know, but they were being really weird about it, Bryce said something about Justin living in a dumpster outside of a fast food joint and called his mom a hooker. Like….. I don’t know, they were rubbing it in that they CAN go to these places while Justin can’t. You know, it’s really weird, Tony, because Justin always hangs around Bryce even though he’s really awful to him sometimes.”

Tony sighs heavily and shrugs. “Sometimes people hang around other people who are jerks because they don’t have anyone else to hang out with, I guess. Maybe Justin really just wants Bryce to like him so he puts up with it. I’d rather Bryce and Montgomery pick on him since he’s so willing to take it on, anyway.”

Clay looks over at his friend with a baffled look on his face. “What do you mean?”

“They’re leaving you alone when they pick on him. I’d rather they spend the rest of their lives tormenting Foley if it means they never call you names or shove you in the hallways again.”

Clay flushes again, not sure how to respond. “I mean….yeah, but they still shouldn’t be picking on him in the first place. They shouldn’t be picking on anybody, Tony. They think just because they’ve got parents who coach and run things and they get to go all kinds of places and get all kinds of things that they can treat everyone else however they want.”

“And kids like Justin are why that is. You see it, don’t you, Clay? Justin wants to be friends with them so bad that he puts up with all kinds of stuff from them, and so does Zach and a lot of other kids. If everyone just suddenly stopped acting like they care about where they went over summer vacation and what they got for their birthday and what their dad did at practice last night…. They wouldn’t have any….they wouldn’t have any, like, control over anyone. You know?”

Clay stops to think about it for a minute before nodding. “Yeah, I know, but… it doesn’t seem like anyone’s gonna stop acting like they care anytime soon. Everyone still seems to, like, wish they were them and puts up with all kinds of stuff from them so…. it doesn’t seem like it’s going away anytime soon. If anything….it seems like it’s getting worse. Like, I bet by the time we’re in junior high everyone’s still gonna wish they were them and act like they're special and stuff.”

Tony winces as he thinks about it. “I really hope not…. That sounds so stupid, like, who cares, right?”

“I know but the answer kinda seems to be….kinda seems to be almost everyone except for us, Tony.”

The two sit in silence for a moment, watching Montgomery and his friends yank on one of the girl’s pigtails and laugh like it’s genuinely funny to watch her squirm like a butterfly trapped in a glass jar that’s being gawked at and rattled around. 

“What if….what if people like Bryce and Montgomery really weren’t special anymore?” Tony asks, eyes narrowed and head cocked to the side as he thinks. 

“They really aren’t all that special now, what do you mean, Tony?” Clay asks, looking over at his friend with a similar expression. 

“I mean, what if….what if all the stuff that they do wasn’t cool or special anymore. Like, everyone likes hearing about all the stuff they get to do and all the places they get to visit. What if that wasn’t special anymore?”

Clay’s face scrunches up again and the ‘look’ makes an encore appearance. “Tony, for that to not be interesting or special anymore, everyone would have to be able to do it too. That’s just not possible, not everyone can afford to go to Alaska, not everyone has the time to go inner tubing or whatever in Jamaica, we can’t just-”

“Yeah, I know, but what if other people could do similar stuff right here in Crestmont? What if people here could, like, go sledding and go to huge water parks and stuff?”

Clay can’t help but laugh, thinking that everything coming out of Tony’s mouth sounds completely ridiculous. “I mean…. If you drive up to San Francisco my mom says there’s some pretty cool stuff but-”

“No, Clay, not San Francisco or Monterey or anywhere else. Here. In Crestmont.”

“There’s….grocery stores and a movie theatre here?” Clay offers with a shrug. “I mean, we live pretty far from any big cities or beaches or anything cool like that.”

Tony just grins again. “But….but we could do cool stuff here and then the stuff that people like Montgomery and Bryce do isn’t so cool, it really isn’t special anymore.”

“But...but there really isn’t anything here. Like, there’s no water park. The closest amusement park of any kind is close by, it’s only twelve miles away, but it’s small and there’s not a lot there. There’s no big mountains with weird names, no snow to ski or sled in…..ever, and there’s not really anything here at all, we don’t have tourists come around here like other cities in California do.”

“That doesn’t matter, Clay. We can still do the same stuff here! My mama always tells us to make the most of what we have when it comes to entertaining ourselves. I’m sure we can come up with ways to do the same stuff they’re doing.”

Clay can’t help but smile ridiculously wide at his friend’s optimism. “You really think so?”

Tony smiles back, just as bright. “Yeah, I do. Just you wait, it’s gonna be even better than you think it is, I promise.”  
\----------------------------

On the second day of spring break Tony rings up the Jensen household to ask Clay’s dad if it’s okay for his son to spend the afternoon with him. Mr. Jensen sees no issue with this and around noon takes a break from his desk work to drive his son over to the Padilla household, following Clay’s directions and only managing to get well and truly lost once. 

After being dropped off, Clay is almost automatically bombarded by all of the Padillas, whom have made it a habit over the last year and a half to crowd around him whenever he enters their home and greet him with affectionate side-hugs and unnecessary noogies. They’ve all become more than accustomed to Clay’s presence and seem nothing but fond of the meek boy. Mrs. Padilla is especially fond of Tony's friend, as she constantly tries to feed Clay, claiming that he’s far too scrawny, and and makes a fuss over him in a maternal way that’s scarily foreign to the boy.

Tony always shows clear annoyance and embarrassment towards his family’s excessive doting and fussing over his friend, always begging for them all to stop and leave the poor boy be and never letting go of Clay’s wrist until he’s successfully lead him to safety upstairs in the attic or outside on the back porch. 

“Mama, he said he’s not hungry,” Tony mutters, cheeks red as he tugs Clay towards the staircase. 

“Oh, but if he is I just made a wonderful casserole last night that he’s more than welcome to help himself to!” Mrs. Padilla shouts after them, hurrying out of the kitchen and around the hallway corner. 

Clay smiles and his cheeks flush. He always feels beyond honored whenever Mrs. Padilla offers him food, but also completely mortified, as he doesn’t know how to turn down her offers without seeming rude. “Oh...thanks, Mrs. Padilla, but I’m okay.”

“Are you sure, honey? It’s really no problem! I’m more than happy to feed you and get some meat on those bones of yours.”

“Mama,” Tony pleads, pulling Clay up the steps. “He’s okay, he’s not hungry. If he gets hungry I’ll bring him to the kitchen to eat, yo prometo.”

Mrs. Padilla sighs and nods, slowly backing away from the landing of the stairs and retreating into the family room. “Alright. But don’t be shy, Clay, if you need anything just let me know, okay sweetheart?”

“Y-yes, Mrs. Padilla,” Clay stutters, face a deeper shade of red than a stop sign. 

Tony sighs in relief, gently tugging Clay up to the top of the steps. “Sorry about that. She just… she seems to think that your parents don’t feed you. I swear, I’ve tried telling her that they do.”

Clay smiles and shrugs. As embarrassing as his encounters with Tony’s family can be for both him and Tony, Clay genuinely enjoys them and the sense of belonging and warmth they fill him with.

“It’s okay. Your mom is really nice, you know that I like her.”

Tony smiles sheepishly and shrugs. “I know it’s just….everyone kinda crowds you and I know you probably don’t like that. I don’t wanna make you feel uncomfortable here….with me.”

“It’s alright,” Clay assures him, cheeks still red and warm as a freshly boiled lobster. “Sometimes I feel more comfortable with you and your family than I do at my own house.”

Tony’s face lights up like a trashcan fire and he smiles prideful as the cat who caught the canary. 

“I’m glad that your dad let you come over today,” he says, smile widening further yet. “Today is the only day this week that my papa is coming home from work early, which means that the car will be here, and I already got Javier to promise that he’d drive us out.”

Clay raises an eyebrow and looks at his friend with excited curiosity. “Drive us out where?”

“To a mountain,” Tony says, still grinning ear to ear.

Clay’s raised eyebrow slants back downward again to knit skeptically together with its twin. “A mountain? Tony, there aren’t any mountains around here, there’s some pretty steep hills, but there aren’t any-”

Tony cuts his friend off with a quick shake of his head. “No, no, there is one, I swear. My brothers have taken me out to see it before, it’s on the edge of town. It’s not as big as that one with the long name up in Alaska that Montgomery talked about, but it’s pretty big and it’s pretty cool to look at, too. My brothers climb up it sometimes….even though it makes my mama real anxious and she always tells them not to.”

Clay still doesn’t look totally convinced, but he shrugs anyway. Usually when Tony’s excited about something it’s a good omen for Clay, like how scandinavian sailors take the sight of a cormorant as a sign of good luck and easy passage, so the kid can’t help but find himself feeling just as elated as his friend, smiling back at him with equal eagerness and anticipation.  
\----------------------------------

Almost immediately after Mr. Padilla pulls into the driveway, Tony starts yanking Clay and Javier out the front door. 

Mr. Padilla huffs with a look of neglect and annoyance on his tired face as he hands the keys over to his oldest son, muttering begrudgingly about how his boys are more excited about the car arriving home than him. Mrs. Padilla snidely replies by saying that it’s a trait they received from their father’s side of the family. 

Javier is quick to usher Clay and Tony over to the car after his mama’s snark, catching a glimpse of his papa’s stony face and having a bad feeling that a huge argument is about to commence. He doesn't want to be around and become carnage when the tension finally hits ground level and explodes.

“Have you ever been out to the Riverside Forest with your folks, Clay?” Javier asks as he plops down in the driver’s seat, glancing into the rearview mirror to watch his younger brother and his friend slide into the back and buckle up.

Clay shakes his head, wincing at how hot and sticky the seat is against the backs of his knees. The whole car honestly feels a bit like an overheated Easy Bake Oven. “No…. my family doesn’t really…. go out to do stuff.”

Javier nods, thinking to himself that he should’ve known that without asking. Over the period of time he’s gotten to know his little brother’s friend, he’s easily picked up on the stark differences between the Jensens' world and their own, and he has to say, Clay’s demeanor makes a hell of a lot more sense when his home life is known and understood. 

“Well, I’m glad I get to take you out to see it for the first time. It’s really fucki-....it’s really beautiful. Tony’s been talking about taking you out to see it since he got off the bus two days ago nonstop.”

Tony flushes and glares at the back of his brother’s head. “I have NOT talked about it nonstop! I asked you to drive us twice, that’s it, and I wouldn’t have even had to ask twice except that you said that you had to ‘think about it’ the first time!”

Javier grins, the immature part of him that spawns from being a much older sibling singing in joy as he’s successfully slid underneath Tony’s skin again, seemingly without any effort. 

“Whatever, Tony. I just gotta tell you, Clay, my little brother goes on and on about you all the time. You should hear him every night at dinner-”

“Javier!”

“-he’s got a lot to say about you. He tells us everything that you guys talked about and-”

“Javier! Cállate!”

Javier trails off teasingly with a hum, turning his head back to glance at his brother with mock innocence as he pulls out of the driveway. 

Clay’s flushing like he does whenever Mrs. Padilla makes a huge fuss over him, squirming in his seat and smiling like he was just told that he’s won the lottery. 

“Asking twice is NOT talking about something nonstop,” Tony mumbles, still glaring at the back of Javier’s head with a pout. “You’re the one who talks nonstop, always going on and on about your stupid girlfriend….”

Javier chuckles softly and rolls his eyes. “My stupid girlfriend? You seemed to like her just fine every time you met her.”

“I do, it’s just that you never shut up about her,” Tony replies flippantly with a shrug. “You talk about her more than I talk about Clay.”

“Gee, I don’t know Tony, I think you out-do me in the ‘talking about your girlfriend the most’ contest. I haven’t really been keeping score though, maybe I should start tallying up the points and then we’ll really know who talks about their girlfriend the most.”

Tony’s eyes narrow into lethal slits, glaring daggers through the back of his older brother’s skull. If looks could kill, Javier would be choking to death on his own vomit in the front seat.

“Shut up.”

Javier just smiles cheekily at his younger brother through the rearview mirror.  
\------------------------------------ 

The ride over to the Riverside Forest takes twenty minutes in total, all the while Javier and Tony bickering back and forth about girlfriends and obsessions while Clay blushes and stares out the window, admiring the passing markets and office buildings that slowly decrease in number and give way to hunkering quaking aspen and grassy hillsides, free of congested traffic and litter. 

“I always love driving through here,” Javier mutters as they wind down the rocky dirt terrain, a serene smile plastered on his face. He rolls down his window with a content sigh, letting the wind lap at his face as he speeds along down the bumpy path without a care. “It’s always so godda-....it’s always so quiet and you feel free, you know? No traffic, no people, no blaring horns or music unless you want to play your own…. It’s a great place to spend an afternoon if you wanna get away from everyone for awhile, blow off some steam or just kick back.”

“Mama takes us out here for picnics sometimes during the summer,” Tony tells Clay, smiling as he thinks back to all the memories he has of his mama leading them on a hike through the itchy shrubbery and finding them a shady spot underneath the towering trees to spread their quilt and eat.

“Yeah, she does. Remember that time last summer when Dante got poison ivy from rolling down that one hillside, Tony? Remember how stupid he looked with those socks on his hands?” Javier asks with a grin, remembering how ridiculous his brother had looked, the left side of his face and both of his arms covered in red splotches that drove the poor kid crazy, scratching at them with the vigor of a dog scratching at it’s flea-bitten flesh.

Tony smiles and nods. “Yeah, I do. Man, you should’ve seen him, Clay, really, he was covered with bright red rashes.”

“Yeah, he was and he had it for weeks! Sophia refused to touch him or anything he’d so much as breathed on. We might as well have quarantined him and burned all of his shi-...stuff.”

Clay laughs and shakes his head. “My dad got poison ivy pretty bad once when I was really little. After he weeded our backyard he got these red splotches all over his hands and arms. He couldn’t leave them alone so-”

“They started to blister, right?” Javier asks knowingly, cocking an eyebrow.

Clay nods.

“Yeah, that’s what happened to Dante. He wouldn’t leave them be so they blistered and got real nasty looking. Our mama made him wear a pair of Mateo’s gym socks over his ointment covered arms every night so that he wouldn’t be able to scratch at ‘em anymore.”

“He still tried to, but the socks were kinda stuck on his arms because of the ointment and he couldn’t peel them off,” Tony says with a goofy grin, remembering waking up in the middle of the night to his brother angrily flopping over in his bed with a frustrated growl, biting the socks and trying to yank them off so that he could scratch at his rashes and tear open all of his blisters again. He had been like an addict gone cold turkey, trying his absolute hardest to get what he needed for relief.

Clay smiles, a quip about sock puppet hands on the tip of his tongue, but it’s never openly shared, as all of the wisecrack words in the boy’s mouth die the second a rocky cliff edge becomes visible, peeking out over the prickly treetops like a bookmark up above the novel’s lip.

Even from a distance, it’s breathtakingly beautiful. Clay can’t look away, staring at the cliff peak intently, watching as more and more of the craggy cliffside becomes visible.

“It’s pretty cool, right?” Tony asks, grinning as he looks over at his friend’s awestruck face. “Just wait until we get there, it’s even better when you’re right there in front, staring up at it.”

Javier smiles softly, fond memories of climbing up the steep cliffside with his brothers surfacing in his mind. “It is seriously abso-fuckin’-lutely amazing to stare up at it,” he murmurs, forgetting momentarily to watch his language and apply the child-friendly filter. “It’s a bitch to climb up though, a real challenge, but it’s always, always more than worth it. The view from the top is breathtaking, even more so than the one you have from the ground when you stand right in front of it.”

“I bet you can see the entire forest from the top,” Clay mutters, eyes still glued to the approaching cliffside. 

Javier grins. “The entire forest and some of Crestmont, too. When you and Tony get a little older I’ll have to have you climb up with us so that you can see it for yourself, Clay. I don’t know how to describe the view to you without leaving out something small but significant, I’d never be able to do it proper justice myself, you’d have to see it.”

“How much of Crestmont can you see, Javier?” Tony asks, already knowing the answer but hoping to further impress his already awestruck companion. 

“At the top you can see as far out as that rundown movie theatre down by the market.”

Clay gapes slightly, his one eyebrow slanting downward as he thinks. “So….if someone was standing on the top of the cliff and someone else was standing on the roof of the movie theatre….do you think that they’d be able to see each other?”

“Probably. Not in detail though, just like….their outlines. It’d be like staring at a stick figure waving its arm at you,” Javier says with a casual shrug, pulling his father’s little, grey elero over to park several yards away from the wide foot of the cliff. 

Tony and Clay slide out of the car, their skin peeling off of the hot leather of the seat with an uncomfortable sounding squelch, and slowly make their way over to the juncture between the craggy cliffside and the dirt-caked ground. 

Clay stands at the foot of the steep cliffside, so close that the toes of his sneakers bristle up against the rocky surface like brillo against a dirty frying pan. He stares straight up the cliffside, shielding his eyes from the blazing orange sun as it glares back down at him, slowly disappearing behind the cliff peak, preparing to set for the evening. 

Sure, it’s not really a mountain, not a huge snow-capped one with a slightly ridiculous name like the one Montgomery is probably currently admiring from a distance with his family, but it’s definitely cool. Clay feels incredibly smalls standing beside it, even smaller than he usually does, but in a good way. He feels like a tiny piece of an astoundingly big puzzle, like a dot on a famous painting, or like a single lantern being released on Chinese New Year. 

“Whoa…”

“It’s pretty cool, right?” Tony asks, grinning ear to ear and stretching his arms out as if trying to direct his friend’s gaze across the vast expanse of the cliffside. 

Clay finds himself speechless, mouth empty of the sarcastic side comments or useless knowledgeable tidbits that it’s been so eager to share lately, simply nodding. 

“How do your brothers climb up it? It’s so steep….”

“It’s sorta like a rock wall. You ever seen one of those, Clay? They use the jutted out pieces as hand and foot holds to hoist themselves up. They bring rope too, just in case one of them slips or has trouble,” Tony explains, feeling very accomplished and proud of himself. He’s making good on his word, something that he’s been taught to do since he was barely capable of speech, and he’s extremely happy to see Clay’s astounded face. 

“All we have to do now is name it.”

Clay looks over at his friend and then back over at the cliff. “Hmm…..all mountains have really long, weird, sometimes hard to say names, right? So…. maybe we should give it a name in another language?”

Tony nods approvingly. “Yeah, that’d work. Hey, Javier, what’s the coolest word that you know in a cool language?”

“What counts as a ‘cool’ language?” Javier asks, using finger quotes and rolling his eyes. 

“Something besides English or Spanish.”

Javier stops to think for a minute, chewing on his bottom lip and staring at the cliffside the way a pet owner stares at their newly adopted furry friend when trying to devise a cute yet non-cliche name. 

An idea suddenly pops into his head and an evil smile spreads across his face. “How about ‘Ma Petite Amie’? It’s French.”

“What does it mean?”

“My little moon,” Javier says with a shrug, saying the first decently cool sounding phrase that comes to mind. 

Clay and Tony grin, staring up at the ‘mountain’. 

“Ma petite amie…” Clay mutters slowly, trying the new sounds out and smiling when he deems them to roll rather beautifully off the tongue.

Tony smiles too, echoing his friend’s sentiment and gazing up at their mountain. “There. We saw a mountain in Crestmont. Now we just gotta figure out how we can go to water park or sled or see dolphins or something.”

Clay giggles and nods. “Yeah…..you know….. none of our classmates are going to think what we’re doing is as cool as what Bryce and Montgomery are doing, right?”

Tony snorts and nods. “Oh, yeah, for sure. But…. I think it’s pretty cool.”

Clay’s smile widens, watching an eagle circle the cliff peak overhead. “Yeah. Me too.”  
\----------------------------

Clay and Tony have trouble thinking of other ways that they can enjoy the lifestyle of the rich and famous 4th graders from Crestmont for virtually no money.

It’s tricky, they already ruled out being able to see any impressive aquatic life due to the lack of aquariums nearby (although, they did visit the market and gawk at some lobsters and crabs for awhile) and they also ruled out being able to sled or ski, as there has never been so much as a light dusting of snow in Crestmont, not one that either Tony or Clay has witnessed or heard of, anyway. 

It seems as if they’ve hit a dead end. 

Clay’s honestly okay with throwing in the towel. Hell, they already saw a ‘mountain’ and some sea creatures, and he got to ride around in the Padilla’s car which, in his opinion, is just as cool as riding around on a fishing boat, so he’s pretty content. Tony seems to have resigned himself as well, satisfied with what they have been able to do and just enjoying the time he got to spend with his friend over the break. It seems like their vacation at home is pretty much over.

That is until Clay stumbles upon an old slip n’ slide and a wheelbarrow missing it’s wheels in the garage. 

It’s the fifth day of spring break and Clay is bored out of his mind. His mother is at work, per the norm, and his father has barricaded himself in his office with the the door shut, also per the norm. Clay has exhausted all of the things he typically does to occupy himself over the course of spring break, including rereading the entirety of his comic book collection and playing Jacks on his bedroom floor. He’s resigned himself to laying in the kitchen and counting the floor tiles and then using said tiles to play hopscotch by himself. 

Clay’s one-on-himself game of hopscotch gives him an idea, and he decides to go out to the garage to fetch some chalk and make a big hopscotch game out on the driveway for himself to use rather than hop around in the small pathway available for him in the kitchen.

Unsurprisingly, chalk is a common staple in the Jensen household, as Lainie Jensen has always been a huge fan for several reasons. For starters, it’s an excellent activity that she can send her son outdoors to do if he’s gotten restless and started to make too much noise. 

She just pushes him out the door with a few sticks and he’ll stay in the driveway where she can clearly see him and keep an eye on him for hours, drawing on the pavement. 

Chalk is also wonderful because it’s a miraculous mess that her son makes completely outside, no stains on the carpeting, no splotches on the wallpaper, and nothing to clean off of her son’s skin or out of his hair. But the best advantage of the miracle that is chalk, is that the mess outside doesn’t even need to be cleaned up. Oh no, it fades away on it’s own over time or is washed away by the rain, it cleans itself up the way all messes should, in Lainie’s opinion. 

Clay wanders into the garage and stands up on his dad’s rickety step stool to reach the carton of chalk on top of the unused workbench. As Clay teeters on the step stool, which happens to be missing one of it’s legs and is just barely propped up against the wall, his eyes wander over to the extensive shelving units to the side of the garage, scanning the several boxes with legible labels neatly stacked in rows. 

The big orange box with the colorful advertisement of kids over embellishing the fun that comes from sliding down a wet, plastic runway catches his attention. Clay hops off of the step stool, good ol’ reliable chalk forgotten, and wanders over to the shelving unit. 

He remembers his grandparents getting him a Slip n’ Slide for his birthday a few years ago, and he also vividly remembers only getting to use it once, as his mother had not been at all pleased with the mucky mess it turned their yard into, nor had she been pleased with how muddy her son had gotten from using it. Clay smiles, remembering how fun the stupid elongated piece of plastic had been. The back of the Jensens’ yard is really nothing but a big hill, so Clay’s dad had set it up for him on the slope and-

Clay’s train of thought is cut off as an idea comes to mind. A really good but potentially dangerous idea. All that he needs is a sled….. which he obviously doesn’t own, but maybe he can find a suitable replacement….

Clay’s wandering eyes land on the dejected, broken wheelbarrow that his father has been talking about throwing away for weeks now, but has yet to actually be dragged to the curb.

A choir of angels sing somewhere in the back of Clay’s cranium as all of the pieces fall into place. He quickly runs back into the house and skids to a stop in front of his dad’s office door, wrapping his knuckles against the wood. 

“Dad? Daaad?”

Clay hears the clicking and clacking of his father’s typing cease. 

“Dad?”

“Yeah, what’s up, buddy?”

“Can I invite Tony over?”

Silence. 

“I promise we’ll be really quiet, Dad. You won’t even know he’s here, we’ll stay outside the entire time and we won’t bother you, I promise.”

Silence ensues for another three seconds. 

“Alright, just keep it down and don’t leave the yard, okay?”

Clay smiles and nods, momentarily forgetting that his father can’t see him. “Okay, Dad. Thanks!”

“No problem, kiddo. Let me know if you need anything.”

Clay waits until he hears his father’s typing resume, formally ending their interaction, before rushing into the kitchen. He picks up the phone and flips through the post-it-notes that his mother has jotted down important numbers on until he finds the one for the Padillas’ home phone.

It’s rings five times before it’s picked up and answered by Javier. 

“Hello?”

Clay feels his face heat up and squirms in place, twisting the phone cord around between his fingers. He’s never been good at talking to people on the phone, he’s just as awkward on the line as he is face to face. 

“Hello?”

“Uh, hi. This is….this is Clay Jensen, uh...is-”

“Hey, Clay! What’s up with you?”

“Um...not a lot….I was just wondering if I could-”

“You wanna talk to Tony, right?”

“Uh….yes.”

“Gotcha, Jensen. Just give me a second.”

Clay hears rustling in the background as Javier walks through the house. Carlo’s barking is audible, as is Sophia and Mateo arguing angrily about something in Spanish. Clay hears Javier shout, ‘Hey, Tony, tu novia quiere hablar contigo’, followed by Tony yelling something else back, sounding agitated. More rustling ensues, as there is a momentary struggle for possession of the phone.

“Hey, Clay,” Tony greets with a tired huff, sounding much less agitated than he did mere seconds ago when talking to his brother. “What’s up?”

“Hey, Tony,” Clay says, also sounding different than he did five seconds ago when speaking to Javier, now much less tense. “I just came up with, like, the best plan that I think I’ve ever had.”

“I’m all ears, Clay,” Tony says, excited smile audible in his voice.  
\--------------------------------------

Fifteen minutes later Mr. Padilla drops his son off in the Jensens’ driveway, where Clay is eagerly awaiting Tony’s arrival on the front stoop.

“Aw, man,” Tony mutters excitedly, following his friend into the garage. “This is gonna be so freakin’ cool…”

Clay nods and grins, looking just as excited as he starts to unravel the hose. “Yeah, it will be. Do you think you can get the box down for me?”

Tony nods, not even bothering with the old stepstool and instead electing to clamber up the shelves like a monkey, yanking the box out and letting it drop to the garage floor with a heavy thud.

“My cousins have a thing like this, but their yard doesn’t have any hills so it’s not as cool,” Tony says, grunting as he picks up the box and follows Clay out of the garage, around to the backyard, and up the hillside. “Like, it’s still fun and all, but you really gotta get a running start to go fast.”

“On my hillside we don’t need to run, we’re just gonna have to lean forward to get our sled moving and then it’ll carry us down,” Clay says, helping Tony open up the box and lay out the plastic runway. “It’s because of this thing called velocity or velominity or something….I think. I heard my dad talk about it once….something about weight and speed and objects moving.”

Tony laughs and shakes his head, having absolutely no clue what Clay is attempting to tell him. “So, like….if something weighs more it goes faster?”

Clay stops to think for a second and shrugs. “I don’t know, I think so?”

“Then how come cheetahs can outrun elephants?”

Clay’s face goes blank and he stares down at his feet for a moment, attempting to think of a rational, logical sounding answer to his friend’s question. When he still can’t think of one after a minute and a half, he shrugs and admits, “I….I don’t really know.”

Tony shrugs, dismissing it all together and deeming it useless knowledge if neither of them knows the answer. The two jog back around the house and into the garage to turn on the hose and fetch the wheelbarrow. 

“This is like…..sledding and inner tubing all in one.”

Clay smiles, wincing a bit as he struggles to lift up his end of the wheelbarrow. “It is. You know, Tony, we’re just smarter than Montgomery and Bryce. They….they wasted a bunch of money to go do stuff we did here. We’re geniuses. This is has been the coolest spring break ever, and it'll probably always have been the coolest. You get the best ideas, Tony.”

Tony nods, grinning pridefully and flushing pink. 

No one but Clay ever tells him that he’s smart or the best at anything. Not even his own mama, as she’s so tied up taking care of everyone and making sure that the house is still standing when her back is turned.

“This….is gonna be…..so awesome,” Clay huffs, both him and Tony staggering up the hillside with the cumbersome wheelbarrow, nearly tipping over sideways and dropping it. 

Tony nods in agreement, angling himself so that they can set their makeshift sled down directly on the edge of the now soaking wet slip n’ slide. 

“Do you wanna sit in the front or do you want me to sit in the front the first time down?”

“You can sit in the front,” Clay offers, still slightly out of breath from the hike up the hillside. He carefully climbs into the back, trying his best not to inch their sled forward anymore so that Tony can get in before it tips downward and rushes off. 

As Tony starts to climb in, Clay suddenly goes wide eyed and starts to scramble out. 

“Hold on a second!” He shouts, racing back down the hill and disappearing around the front of the house. Tony quirks a confused eyebrow, sitting as still as possible, also trying to prevent the wheelbarrow from going over the hill without both of them in it.

Two seconds later Clay comes bounding back around the house, two helmets tucked underneath his arms. 

“My mom always makes me wear one when I ride my bike and stuff so…..I figured….safety first, right?”

Tony snorts and rolls his eyes, but puts the helmet being offered to him on without protest. “Sure thing, Clay,” he mutters teasingly as he straps it on. 

Clay blushes as he settles back into the wheelbarrow, adjusting his own helmet. “Helmets are important, Tony. You don’t wanna end up with like….head injuries and stuff.”

Tony just snorts again before peering over the lip of wheelbarrow and staring down at the hill’s slope, just like an excited kid does when riding a rollercoaster and staring over the safety bar at the downward spiraling tracks. 

“Let me know when you’re ready.”

Clay shifts behind him before bracing himself flat against the back of the makeshift sled, knuckles white from how hard he’s gripping at the rusty side of the wheelbarrow. “Okay….. let’s go.”  
\----------------------------------

It’s around five o’clock when Matt Jensen finally finishes up his work for the day. He closes his laptop with an exhausted sigh and leans back in his chair, briefly closing his eyes and wondering if he should man up and go make some scrambled eggs for his son and his friend, or if he should just order them a pizza and be done with it. 

He quickly decides on the latter, like he almost always does, and heaves himself up out of his chair. He knows that last time Clay had Tony over he swore he’d make the two of them dinner the next time around but…..he’s just not feeling up to it tonight.

“Hey, Clay! Kiddo! I’m going to order a pizza, what do you and Tony want on it?” Matt yells as he walks towards the kitchen to retrieve the phone. “Clay!”

There’s no answer. 

Matt furrows his eyebrows, lingering in the kitchen doorway a moment longer and waiting for an answer. When he receives none he starts to head for the front door, remembering his son promising that they’d stay in the yard. Matt hadn’t thought that he’d been serious…. He didn’t need them to be outside for the entirety of the last three hours, they only needed to be quiet and stay away from the office, that’s all. He hopes his son didn’t seriously think that he and Tony weren’t allowed to step foot inside the house….he hadn’t meant for them to feel as if they were banned from entering...

“Clay! Buddy, I’m ordering a pizza!” Matt shouts again, poking his head out the front door. “What do you and Tony wa-”

Matt cuts himself off when he doesn’t see his son or his friend. He figures that they’re playing in the backyard, so he slips on his shoes and starts to walk around the house to usher them inside for dinner. As he heads down the driveway, he spots the gardening hose pulled out across the pavement, wrapped around the side of the house like a freakishly long snake.

“Clay! Why is the hose out?” Matt asks, eyebrows knitting together in concern. He’s starting to have a really bad feeling about this….

He makes a beeline for the garage and just about feels his heart stop in his chest when he realizes that the hose is in fact on. Matt quickly twists the spigot to cease the flow of water (or, more accurately, dollar bills) and finds that he’s broken into a nervous, clammy sweat. 

How long has the hose been on?! 

How much money did his son waste this afternoon?! 

WHY was the hose on?! What the hell were they doing?!

“Clay!” Matt shouts, hurrying around to the back of the house. “Clay! Why is the hose out?! What are you doing?!”

If Matt Jensen thought he was about to have a heart attack when he saw that the hose was dispensing running water for god knows how long, the sight of his backyard should just about make him stroke out. 

The first thing he notices is the path of destruction, the line down the hillside where the grass has been parted like a hairline and the dirt has been uprooted and scattered too. It looks as if someone dragged a plow through the grass and forgot to plant the seeds. 

The second thing Matt notices is that several of the tulips at the end of the hill that run perpendicular to the path of destruction have been mowed down and plowed through like the first line on a battlefield. Lainie had just planted those last spring….she’d spent hours burying the bulbs…. Oh, she’s going to throw fit when she sees that they’ve been mowed down like grass…..

The third thing Matt notices is his son.

“Clay! What the hell are you-” Matt once again cuts himself off, feeling a sense of panic well up in the pit of his stomach and crush his diaphragm like a heavy rock, all of his airways constricting and his chest aching as if he’s just been sucker punched by fate. 

His son is a fucking mess. 

Like…..a complete, mess. 

Clay is absolutely drenched, soaked to the bone, his t-shirt sticking to him like a second skin and showcasing all of his ribs. He’s not just wet though, he’s coated in layers upon layers of mud, his arms, neck, face, and legs caked in the stuff. Grass sticks to Clay’s legs and ankles like a tacky, green shag carpet and he’s shivering and shaking like a rabid chihuahua.

Tony looks no better, also soaking wet, painted in mud, and covered in grass, shaking and shivering as if cold.

Several things bubble up in Mr. Jensen’s throat: How long has the hose been on? What the HELL are you doing? Why is the old wheelbarrow out here? What did you do to your mother’s flowerbeds? Do you have any idea how big of a mess you’ve made?

All that comes out is a choked up: “Oh shit.”

“Hey, Dad,” Clay greets from the top of the hill, smiling ear to ear as if he’s having the time of his life. “Is it time for dinner?”

“Hi, Mr. Jensen,” Tony says with a nod, slowly clambering into the old wheelbarrow. “How’re you doing today?”

Matt feels his mouth go dry, staring up at his son and watching him hop into the wheelbarrow behind his friend. 

“My wife is going to kill me,” he murmurs aloud to himself, watching anxiously as the wheelbarrow tips forward and slides down the hill, flying down the wet slip n’ slide and slowing up a bit on the mucky part of the hillside. “Lainie is going to fucking kill me…I’m dead. I’m fucking dead.”

“You should try this, Dad!” Clay chirps as he climbs out of the wheelbarrow, slipping around on the muddy terrain underneath his soaked sneakers. “It’s really fun! Just rolling down the hill is fun too, we tried that a few times and we went even faster than we did in the wheelbarrow.”

Matt considers taking a minute to sit down and cry. 

He thinks that this might be karma bitch-slapping him for refusing to make some goddamn scrambled eggs.  
\---------------------------------

“Dad, are we almost done?” Clay asks, wincing as the hose’s spray hits his sensitive skin with a sting, turning it bright pink.

“Not yet, buddy,” Matt mutters, glancing nervously over his shoulder at the backyard, not even knowing where to start after hosing the kids down. Does he attempt to salvage the trodden tulips, or does he try to run out to the gardening store to pick up some dirt and grass seed? Will his wife pull into the driveway while he’s standing here, hosing down two muddy boys? What time is it, how much time does he have before she gets home?

“Mr. Jensen, can I have the shampoo again, please?” Tony asks, running his hands through his hair and feeling for dirt clumps. “And the soap bar, too?”

Matt nods and sighs, tossing Tony the bottle of obnoxiously scented shampoo and the radioactive green bar of soap. “You need to wash your hair again too, Clay. I still see some streaks of mud near the front.”

“Dad, I’ve washed it twice already,” Clay mutters, frustration evident in his voice.

“Well, you’re going to have to keep washing it until it’s clean, kiddo. You’re the one who decided to slide around in the muck, not me.”

Clay flushes and stares shamefully down at his still slightly brown feet. “I’m really sorry, Dad. I wasn’t thinking….”

“I’m sorry too, Mr. Jensen. I didn’t stop to think about the flowers and the mud….”

Matt sighs, running his hand over his face and feeling beyond strung out. He’d lost it a few minutes ago, screaming at his kid loud enough for everyone on their street to hear. Now he’s just burnt out and feeling partially responsible for the destruction of his backyard. “I know, I know….I’m sorry, too. This should teach you both a lesson about thinking things over before diving in head first….and it teaches me a lesson about being a better supervisor….”

“Mr. Jensen? What do I do if my papa gets here before my shirt and socks are out of the dryer?”

Matt sighs again and shrugs. “I….I uh, I guess we’ll just have to send you home in your shorts, Tony. I’ll send your clothes to school with Clay after break, okay?”

Tony nods before ducking his head down under the spray. 

“Clay, remind me to bring a quilt downstairs from the linen closet when we go inside, okay?”

Clay raises an eyebrow in confusion. “Okay. Why do we need a blanket downstairs, Dad? Mom says that throw blankets make the couch look messy, and she doesn’t like them. If we have a blanket on the couch when she gets home she’ll just be more mad, and-”

Matt sighs, pinching the bridge of his nose and looking just as tired as Tony’s papa looks when he comes home from work. 

“Buddy, it won’t matter how your mom feels about blankets on the couch when she gets home from work tonight. I’m going to need one….”


	3. Eleven

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Suggestions for future chapters or separate fics are more than welcome.

Tony finally starts to follow in his brothers’ footsteps and gets into serious trouble at school for the first time when he and Clay are eleven.

The whole situation is entirely unpleasant and the rather violent outcome is completely unexpected. 

No one saw the situation panning out the way it did because Tony Padilla has never been an aggressive or naturally mean-spirited kid. He’s never been a troublemaker like his brothers, nor has he ever been hot headed and easily angered like his papa. He’s always been exceptionally well behaved at school, having no records from the guidance counselor’s department that follow him up to the middle school.

His behavioral slate is as clean as a nun’s search history. 

He’s always turned the other cheek, just like his mama and the priest instruct him to. 

He’s always backed away from fights, putting his hands up in surrender with a soft smile and a shake of his head.

He’s always refrained from petty name calling, no matter how many foul-tempered insults are thrown his way.

Tony’s always been one to take the high ground and shuffle along, making sure that his head is held high and that Clay is tucked securely underneath his wing. He doesn’t bother to react to ignorance or immaturity because he knows that there’s no point in wasting his energy worrying about it.

But there’s only so much bull shit even the most tolerant of people can handle before losing their mind and going off the deep end. Everyone has a threshold for how much fuckery they can withstand, and once that threshold is surpassed, tolerance and maturity go down the drain. 

This threshold is commonly surpassed when the line that everyone has etched deeply into their consciousness is crossed. This line that everyone possesses cannot be moved, erased, or crossed, and if someone does decide they have big enough balls and dare try to cross it, there is absolute hell to pay. 

For Tony, the crosser of that oh-so important line happens to be Bryce Walker, and it is crossed through a series of morbid wrongs that Tony finally decides to right....with his fist.

It all goes down on a Tuesday afternoon within the span of approximately twenty seconds. But the situation that leads to Tony deciding to deck Bryce Walker right across his smug face and break his nose is not a brief occurrence like the swing of Tony’s fist.

Oh no, the events that lead to Tony making an example of Bryce start around the time school resumes session, and there were plenty of opportunities for the middle school staff to intervene and avoid the outburst that ends in a broken, bloody nose and angry shouts of indignation. 

Sometimes though, the ruling authority fails at it’s job and, Tony reasons, that’s why vigilantes like Batman exist.  
\-----------------------------------------------

Middle school is not kind to Clay Jensen.

Sure, he hadn’t exactly had it easy in elementary school either, but it had definitely been better. This is partially because the beginning of middle school marks the beginning of the horror show that is puberty, bringing along with it the glorious gifts of body odor, acne, budding breasts, and changing voices. The new, heightened levels of testosterone and estrogen coursing through pubescent bodies emboldens mean, little gremlins.

Harsh names that used to be whispered behind Clay’s back are now shamelessly spat in his face.

Snickers that used to be hidden behind cupped hands are now loud, boisterous laughs accompanied by accusatory fingers jabbed in his direction.

Shoving in the hallways that used to be a weekly occurrence is now a daily ritual.

New, worse things have been introduced into Clay’s life as well. Bryce calls him a ‘schizoid’ whenever referring to him, and has other kids doing it now too, even though only a quarter of them understand the insult that they're using and giggling about.

Justin body slams him into the lockers every morning and in between classes if he and Clay cross paths. Montgomery has taken it upon himself to make sure that Clay’s locker is broken into at least twice a month, his sacked lunch stolen and dumped into a toilet in one of the restrooms.

School has evolved from a mildly stressful atmosphere into a full blown nightmare for Clay, and he has no idea how to fix it for himself.

Tony hates how useless he feels when it comes to Clay’s predicament. Whenever he’s around, no one dares to so much as shoot a glance that could be interpreted as venomous in Clay’s direction, knowing that Tony will put them in their place with a smackdown….of the verbal sort that effectively shames them into the corner. But whenever Tony’s not around, Clay is free game, a timid fennec that’s trapped in a vicious fox hunt, and man, do the hounds take advantage of it. The worst of it is that Tony and Clay only have two classes together, gym and English, so Clay’s on his own more than half of the day. 

Tony doesn’t know what to do, so he tries everything he can think of to try and ensure that Bryce and his gang of undesirables leave Clay the hell alone. He tries to find him in the hallway after class as quickly as possible so that he can escort him to the next one. He makes it a point to make eye contact with Justin, Montgomery, and Bryce whenever they pass in the hallways or are seated across from each other in class, a silent warning. 

He tells Clay everytime before departing in the hallway after gym, “Just don’t react to them. If you just brush it off, they’ll get bored and leave you alone.”

Clay swears he doesn’t ever react more than blushing and trying to calmly get away, but for some bizarre reason beyond Tony’s comprehension, Bryce and Co. never seem to get bored of tormenting Clay. He’s one of their favorite punching bags, and Tony can’t help but notice how much worse it’s made Clay’s anxiety. He can’t help but feel saddened to watch all of the confidence he managed to instill in his friend shrivel up and die like a wilting hibiscus. 

It bothers Tony so much that he decides, very reluctantly, that he needs to get outside help, because he can’t fix this one on his own.

So, on the fourth week of school, Tony decides to ask his homeroom teacher if he can possibly sync up his schedule with Clay’s. That way, Clay will never be on his own and therefore never be vulnerable to Bryce Walker’s sharp tongue or Justin Foley’s aggressive demeanor.

“Excuse me? Mrs. Hutcherson?” Tony asks, smiling politely as he makes his way up to his homeroom teacher’s desk. The classroom is still mostly empty, kids drifting in one at a time to take their assigned seats, the hallways still booming with the loud voices of friends chatting and the banging of lockers being thrown open and slammed shut.

“Mrs. Hutcherson?”

The middle aged woman looks up from the thick book splayed open on her lap and greets Tony with a warm smile. “Good morning, Tony. Can I help you?”

“I was wondering if you could mark me present and let me go down to the administrator's office. I have a scheduling problem.”

“What’s wrong with your schedule, Tony? Do you want to drop or move up to an honors class? Because if so, I really hate to break it to you, but the two week window to do so has closed.”

Tony shakes his head, smile wavering slightly. “No, Mrs. Hutcherson, it’s got nothing to do with honors classes.”

The teacher looks confused. “Really? I can’t think of anything else that’d be wrong with your schedule, please do explain.”

“Well, I have a friend who’s real shy and he’s having a really hard time with middle school so far, so I was hoping that maybe the administrators could sync my schedule up with his so that he’s not all by himself.”

Mrs. Hutcherson’s smile softens, and when she opens her mouth to speak again, so does her voice. 

“I’m sorry, Tony, but I don’t think that administration is going to see your cause for a schedule change as valid. It’s definitely honorable, you’re very kind to be so concerned for your friend, but this is part of what middle school is all about, branching out and meeting new people. This obviously doesn’t mean that you and your friend have to stop being friends, of course not, but you’re both going to have to learn to find your own way. Do you understand?”

Tony is silent for a moment, mind processing everything his teacher just said. He slowly nods, his smile completely wiped off his face. 

“Yes, Mrs. Hutcherson, I understand.”

Mrs. Hutcherson nods, still smiling sympathetically at her student, the light leaving his eyes and smile fading from his face during her speech not happening unnoticed. 

She fishes him a birthday pencil out of her desk before ushering him back to his seat, keeping her hand pressed up against his shoulder blades until he sits down.

Tony sighs as he drums his new pencil off of his desk, watching his teacher walk back to the front of the room and contemplating what his next move should be. If he could at least switch his lunch so that he and Clay can eat together and so that he can stop that snotty group of girls from claiming all of the open seats….

“It’s your birthday?”

Tony’s quickly snapped back from his thoughts, looking over to see Skye Miller taking her seat next him, her eyes fixed on his new pencil.

“No,” Tony mutters with a sigh. 

“You’re just so special that Mrs. Hutcherson gave you a birthday pencil for no reason?” Skye asks with a soft, teasing grin. “I saw you up at her desk talking to her. She must either really like you, so she gave it to you as a gift, or she must think you’re annoying, and she gave it to you to shut you up and get you to leave her alone.”

“It’s not a gift or distraction,” Tony says, shooting Skye a pathetic attempt at a smile. “It’s a consolation prize.”  
\-----------------------------------

Clay hurries down the hallway with his eyes locked intently on the tiled floor, hoping that if he appears as humbled and small as possible Montgomery will decide to leave him alone and find someone else to throw into the lockers. 

Despite his fast pace, he’s really not in too much of a hurry to get to his next period: lunch.

So far this year, lunch has been nothing but one embarrassing situation after another, as a group of girls has decided that Clay really just is not allowed to eat at a table, and they make it a point to set their bags down in any free seat. They also do their best to convince others that Clay Jensen is nothing but a freak who needs to eat on the floor, away from everyone else in his own secluded corner of weirdness.

And, kids being kids, decide to listen to this gaggle of mean girls since they clearly own the goddamn cafeteria, and no one allows Clay to sit at their table. This isolation forces Clay to sit on the floor in the corner, eating by himself and flipping through his comic books so that he doesn’t have to look up and see the several eyeballs and snickers directed towards him.

“Hey! Knock it off!” Clay hears Tyler Down shout, voice echoing down the hallway. “You’re such an asshole, De la Cruz! Seriously, knock it off-”

Montgomery’s laughter cuts off Tyler’s protests, followed by the loud bang of Tyler’s body smashing into the lockers. 

Clay picks up the pace, gently brushing past a group of seventh grade nerds and turning the corner so fast that he nearly slips and falls flat on his face. Tyler can still be heard shouting angrily and Montgomery can still be heard laughing his ass off. 

Clay is relieved when he opens his locker to see his sacked lunch still there, settled on the bottom where he left it. Apparently Montgomery has been too preoccupied with Tyler today to break in and steal it.

“Clay!” Tony calls, trotting down the hallway towards him. “Hey, Clay!”

Clay feels his nerves subside as Tony approaches, his lips stretching into a smile. 

“Hey, how’re you doing?” He asks, grabbing his lunch and closing his locker. 

“I’m fine, how’re you?” Tony asks, concern audible in his voice as he starts to steer his friend down the hallway. 

“Uh, you know, I’m good,” Clay says with a shrug, not failing to notice the momentary yet intense staring contest Tony and Bryce engage in as they pass one another on their way to the cafeteria. 

“Anyone….anyone do or say something to you that they shouldn’t have?” 

Clay shakes his head. “No, Montgomery seems pretty preoccupied with Tyler today, I think Justin’s absent, and Bryce seemed to be too busy trying to impress this one girl in our art class to bother with me. I think….I think it might be getting better, you know?”

Tony raises a skeptical eyebrow and lets out a soft sigh. 

“I don’t know, Clay. Bryce had the nerve to trip you in the hallway twice yesterday, and half of the girls in our grade treat you poorly because he does and they want his attention….for some bizarre reason. I don’t think it’s going to get better until…” Tony trails off, knowing Clay never likes it whenever he suggests telling an adult about his problems. Clay has insisted at least twelve times before that he doesn’t need to get any of the teachers or his mom involved, saying it’ll probably only make things worse.

Tony understands why he has this fear, as several other kids who told on Bryce and his cronies in elementary school were rewarded for their tattling with even more harassment, but he honestly doesn’t know how much worse things can get for Clay. He just wants them to leave his friend the fuck alone. Hopefully their punishment would be severe enough that they’d back off, right?

“Tony,” Clay mutters pleadingly, quickly picking up where Tony left off. “Please, don’t tell anyone, okay? Please? It’s...it’s okay and it’ll only get worse if we tell someone. You saw what they did to Skye last year when she told the guidance counselor, and what they did to Hunter when his mom called the school! You have to promise me you won’t tell any of the teachers or your parents, okay?”

Tony is silent for a moment, causing Clay’s heartbeat to pick up and his hands to start sweating. 

“Tony,” he mutters, stopping in the entrance to the cafeteria to try and catch his friend’s eyes. “Tony, please?”

“Alright,” Tony mutters with a sigh, still refusing to make eye contact. 

“Promise me,” Clay insists anxiously, eyes scanning the other boy's face for a sign of sincerity. 

When Tony hesitates to respond, Clay clutches at his friend’s shoulder. 

“Tony…”

“Okay, fine,” Tony says in defeat, putting his hands up in surrender and rolling his eyes. “I promise that I won’t tell anyone…. even though I probably should.”

Clay’s lips twitch into a small smile as he let’s out a deep breath that he hadn’t been aware he’d been holding.

“Thanks, Tony,” he mutters with a nod, starting to back into the cafeteria. 

A sense of guilt wells up in Tony’s stomach as he watches Clay smile at him again before venturing into the cafeteria to locate his isolated corner. 

His friend just thanked him for turning a blind eye and doing him a huge disservice. 

Tony glumly wonders how of a terrible friend this makes him as he heads to his science class. He knows he won’t be able to focus today, his mind not on the water cycle or food webs, but instead drifting back to a boy he cares about dearly sitting in a dark corner all by himself while others jeer and point.  
\---------------------------------------------

Weeks pass and it becomes more and more obvious that Clay’s theory that Bryce and his minions will start to leave him be is nothing but an idealistic fantasy. The name-calling, shoving, and horrible rumors continue, making Clay shrink even further into himself and causing Tony’s guilt to grow into an even bigger burden.

“Schizoid! Hey, Schizoid!” Justin yells, jogging down the hallway after Clay’s retreating figure. “Wait up! Schizoid!”

Clay cringes internally, knowing that he can’t outrun Justin without plowing through crowds of people and earning him even more dislike from the middle school’s population. He stops, pressing himself up against the wall and waiting for Justin to catch up with him.

“Hey, Jensen,” Justin greets with a wolfish grin, fidgeting excitedly in place. Clay already has a really bad feeling about this…

“Jensen, man, don’t bother going to your locker. Montgomery already stopped by and got your lunch for you!”

Clay blanches and lowers his head, feeling sick as his stomach sinks down to his feet. He doesn’t reply, even when Justin tries to prompt him with his chuckling and light shoving. 

“Aw, don’t be so shy, Jensen! C’mon, let’s go get your lunch,” Justin says gleefully, grabbing Clay by the arm and dragging him to the boys’ restroom by the gym. “Quit dragging your feet, if we’re too slow Tony’ll show up and ruin it! You want to go get your lunch, right?”

Clay groans softly, already fully aware of the uncomfortable and shameful sequence of events that are about to play out.

This has happened a few times now: Montgomery will dump his lunch into a toilet, and then he and Justin will decide that they’d like the pleasure of watching Clay fish his soggy baloney sandwich and apple slices out of the porcelain bowl. One of them will go fetch Clay on his way to his locker and drag him into the bathroom for ‘lunch’. As Clay scoops his soiled lunch out of the toilet bowl, Justin and Montgomery will stand in the bathroom doorway gawking and giggling.

Once they even invited a few of their other friends to admire the spectacle.

“C’mon, Schizoid,” Justin mutters, rather forcefully yanking Clay into the restroom. 

Poor Clay feels his heart start to hammer away in his throat as he’s all but thrown into the restroom and greeted by both Bryce and Montgomery, who are leaning up against the sinks with big smiles plastered across their faces. They both look excited, like two kids who are about to watch an enthralling circus performance.

“Schizoid,” Bryce greets with mock warmth. “You here for lunch?”

Clay freezes up on the spot like he usually does, tongue cemented to the roof of his mouth and feet refusing to move. Even if he did try to bolt it wouldn’t get him anywhere, as Justin’s currently blocking the doorway and Clay knows he wouldn’t be able to out-maneuver him.

“C’mon, Jensen, you must be hungry!” Montgomery says with a laugh, motioning towards the two stalls at the end of the room. “I went to all the trouble of getting your lunch out of your locker and taking it here for you! Don’t be so ungrateful, man.”

“Yeah, Jensen, don’t be so goddamn ungrateful!” Justin parrots excitedly. 

Clay swallows the lump in his throat, shivering as if he has a fever. He stares over at the stalls and lets out a soft sigh, knowing he won’t be able to get out of here until he gets down on his knees in front of the toilet and fishes out his ruined food for these goons’ entertainment.

He slinks over to the stalls, refusing to look over his shoulder at his tormentors’ beaming faces as he opens one of the doors.

The sight of his lunch filling up the toilet bowl like a bizarre offering to some equally bizarre god or goddess is as disheartening as it has been the last three times that this has happened. Clay hesitates before entering the stall, Justin, Bryce, and Montgomery’s snickering echoing in his ears. He’s certain that his face must be pale as a ghost as he kneels down in front of the toilet, his hands shaking as he starts to retrieve his soaked sandwich. 

His face falls even further when he sees that Montgomery snagged one of his comics and decided to toss it into the toilet as well.

Bryce, Justin, and Montgomery watch their favorite prey with wide grins and chuckles. Bryce nudges Montgomery in the ribs as they watch Clay fish out his comic book and splay it’s soaked pages out on the tiled floor and mutters an admiring, “Nice touch.”

Montgomery replies with an eager: “That’s not all.”

Clay feels his heart beat faster yet at Montgomery’s claim, staring over his shoulder at the gloating jock helplessly. 

This pitiful look draws laughter from all three of Clay’s tormentors, Montgomery looking rather prideful since he was the one to finally get Clay to react more than retreating within himself and blushing.

“Don’t be selfish, Jensen, it’s not for you. I already brought you lunch, didn’t I?” Montgomery asks with a cocky smile, reaching into his backpack and pulling out a thick journal with an intricate kaleidoscope design.

“Whoa!” Justin gapes, letting out an excited spurt of laughter. “Is that Skye Miller’s journal?”

The wicked proud smile is still painted on Montgomery’s face as he nods.

Bryce snorts, snatching the journal out of his friend’s hands and flipping through a few pages. “That chick is such a freak. Look at all these weird drawings of vampires and mermaids and other nerdy mythical creatures and shit...”

“There’s poetry in there, too,” Montgomery says with a laugh. “She writes about having a crush on some guy, but she never says his name. It’s still pretty bad though, all gooey and melodramatic.”

“I bet. That girl cries over the dead mice in science class,” Justin says with a chuckle.

“How’d you get this, Monty?” Bryce asks his friend, still idly flipping through the journal. 

“She left it on her desk when she went to the restroom during math class and I snagged it.”

Clay scrunches up his face in disgust as he watches the three jerks behind him flip through a girl’s personal drawings and poetry, feels his blood boil underneath his skin as he watches them mock her inner thoughts and feelings. If he were braver, more courageous like Tony, he’d say something, he’d stop them and get that journal off of them and make them regret ever taking the damned thing in the first place. 

But Clay is not brave, he isn’t courageous, and he isn’t Tony.

So he sits in the stall, surrounded by his soggy food and comic book as Bryce continues to degrade Skye’s drawings and poetry, calling her a ‘freak’ and a ‘total lesbian’ and a ‘wannabe goth’, not truly understanding the insults he's using.

Clay doesn’t move until Bryce gets bored with the journal and decides to throw it in the other toilet, the journal hitting the water with a soft splash and a chorus of brutish laughter.

Clay doesn’t start to throw away his ruined food or pick up his soaking wet comic book until after Justin. Bryce, and Montgomery have all filed out of the restroom, the door swiftly swinging shut behind them.

After his own mess is cleaned up, his soggy comic book draped over his left shoulder, Clay enters the second stall to fetch Skye’s journal out, assuming she’s realized that it’s gone by now and probably wants it back.

It’s just as wet as his comic book and when he flips it open most of the drawings and passages are smeared beyond recognition, the blue and black ink running across the pages in messy streaks.

“Oh no,” Clay murmurs sadly, grabbing a wad of toilet paper and dabbing at the wet pages, hoping to try and salvage some of the drawings and poems. It’s a kind effort made in vain. “Oh no….”

Clay gives up after a few minutes of dabbing with no apparent effect and starts to leave the restroom, trying to remember when the next class he has with Skye Miller is. They have history together at the end of the day, maybe he can slip her journal to her before class starts or catch her at the end before she starts to head out to the buses in the parking lot.

As Clay makes his way out of the boys’ restroom, a soft whimpering noise catches his attention. He pauses, looking around and feeling his stomach clench again. He heard a similar noise once, coming from his parents’ bedroom the night after his mom and dad had had a huge fight that ended in his mother driving off to spend the night in a motel several miles away. 

“Hello?” Clay calls meekly, knocking on the door to the girls’ restroom. The sound seems to be coming from inside.

“Hello?” He calls again, knocking and glancing over his shoulder warily to make sure no one’s around. When he’s certain that there’s no prying eyes to catch him in the act, he slips into the girl's’ room.

“Hello?” He calls again, even softer this time as he stares around at the graffiti covered walls. “Hey, are you okay?”

The whimpering and sniffling halts immediately after Clay asks, making him feel even more nervous. He notices that one of the stall doors is closed and latched, so he slowly and timidly makes his way over to it. 

Standing directly in front of it the stall, he can see two worn-in black sneakers. 

“Uh, are you okay?” He asks nervously, glancing over at the door anxiously, expecting it to swing open any moment followed by the horrified shrieks of eighth grade cheerleaders or, even worse, fifth grade bullies who will surely spread word of him lurking around in the girls’ restroom all over the school by the end of the day. 

“Hello?”

Clay watches the black sneakers shift, their owner obviously pacing as she decides whether or not to open the stall door. 

“Uh, I just...I uh…..I heard you crying out in the hallway and I just wanted to make sure you’re okay and all….”

“Yeah, I’m fine! Get out!” The girl shouts, sounding infuriated by Clay’s presence. 

Clay swallows thickly and nods, turning around to leave when his wet comic book slides off of his shoulder and hits the tiled floor with a sickly sounding splat. Clay feels his cheeks go aflame, quickly kneeling down to pick it up and feeling his anxiety continue to skyrocket when a few of the pages rip as he tries to pick it up.

“Crap!” he hisses, finally managing to pick it up and frowning as he examines it, noticing that it’s basically ruined. “Crap…”

The stall door creaks open, startling Clay and sending him hurrying towards the door, not wanting to further upset the girl he’s clearly already angered and embarrassed.

“Hey, Jensen, wait!”

Clay freezes in front of the door, slowly turning around to see Skye Miller standing there, her arms crossed over her chest as she examines him with pink, puffy, ‘I’ve just been crying’ eyes.

“Uh, s-sorry,” he mutters nervously, looking genuinely apologetic and anxious as hell. “I w-was just trying to make sure that you were alright….I...I really shouldn’t even be in here, I’m sorry….. I actually…..I actually have something for you….i-if I can just give it to you? Yeah?”

Skye stares at him, scrunching up her face in confusion. “What?”

Clay, figuring it’s useless to try and repeat his nervous rambling yet again, holds out Skye’s dripping wet journal. “I...I got this for you….”

Skye stares at it for a moment, eyes filling with tears again. She swallows thickly, hurrying across the restroom to yank her journal from Clay’s hands and hurriedly flipping through it, tears sliding down her cheeks as she stares at the ink stained pages.

“I...I’m really sorry. I tried to dry the pages but the ink was already running down them..... sorry…”

Skye sniffles, closing her journal with a heavy sigh and shaking her head. “Who’d you get this from?” She asks, looking at Clay with teary eyes. She’s glaring at him with the intensity of the sun, clearly demanding him to inform her where to direct her wrath.

“Well, I...I found it in a toilet in the boys’ room…. Montgomery took it off your desk in math….”

Skye sniffles again, her glare melting away only to be replaced by a look of overwhelmed hopelessness. A small sob escapes her trembling lips and she begins to tremble like a leaf in the wind, lowering her head in shame.

Clay freezes up again, not sure what he should do. He stands there awkwardly for a moment, watching her cry. 

“I’m sorry…. Montgomery, Justin, and Bryce are nothing but jerks, Skye,” he says softly, shuffling around nervously. “Don’t let them….don’t let them get you down.”

Skye looks up at Clay, tears streaming down her face. “Justin and-and Bryce were involved, too?”

Clay nods. “Yeah…. Montgomery stole it but...they were all there when they threw it into the toilet.”

“Did they look through it?!” Skye asks shuddering, choking on a sob.

Clay hesitantly nods, sending Skye back into hysterics.

He has no idea what the fuck he can do to fix this, but he knows he can’t just leave her in here crying.

“I...I know this probably won’t help but…” Clay mutters, reaching into his backpack. “Here…. You can start fresh,” he says, offering her his math notebook. 

Skye pauses in her crying to stare at Clay’s gift, dashing her knuckles over her eyes. She hesitates before taking it from him.

“I know it doesn’t fix your old journal or take back what Montgomery did but…” Clay shrugs, his face aflame and eyes fixed on the tile sheepishly. 

Skye sniffles, taking a moment before responding.

“Thank you.”

Clay nods, continuing to shuffle around in place awkwardly, not sure what to do.

“Clay….were….were you there when they threw my journal in the toilet?”

Clay nods.

“Is that….is that what happened to your comic book?”

Clay hesitates. 

“Yeah…..and my lunch.”

“They threw your lunch in the toilet?” Skye asks, looking shocked.

“Yeah…. don’t worry though, they’ve done it before. It’s not that big of a deal, not really.”

Skye shakes her head, trying to catch Clay’s averted eyes. “That IS a big deal, Jensen! They shouldn’t be throwing your food into the toilet like that!”

“Yeah, well, they shouldn’t have stolen your journal to gawk at and throw into the toilet either,” Clay counters, suddenly feeling defensive, as if he’s being examined under a microscope.

“Hey, you said it yourself, they’re nothing but jerks,” Skye mutters. “So….you don’t have anything to eat?”

“Uh….no.”

Skye hesitates, glancing back over her shoulder at the stall she’d been crying in. 

“Do you have any lunch money?”

“No….”

“Well…..why don’t you eat lunch with me then?” Skye offers, suddenly feeling shy, her cheeks turning pink at the mere notion of friendly company.

Clay looks up at her, raising his eyebrow. “I don’t think I have lunch when you do, Skye. I have it now….what class are you supposed to be in?”

“It’s my lunch period right now, too.”

Clay blinks and does a double take. “Really? I...I’ve never seen you in the cafeteria, is all….”

Skye’s blush deepens and she stares down at the floor. “Yeah, well, I usually eat in here….”

“Oh….. I usually eat on the floor. No one really wants me to sit with them…”

Skye smiles softly at him. “I want you to sit with me….. come here, we can eat in my stall so if anyone comes in we can stop talking and then they won’t see you or know that you’re in here.”

Clay feels his lips stretch into a small smile, following Skye into her stall, seating himself on the closed toilet seat and watching Skye close the door behind them. 

“Are you allergic to peanut butter?”

“No.”

“Good. We can split my peanut butter and jelly sandwich then. I have some carrot sticks and a few cookies for us to share, too,” Skye says, seating herself criss-cross on the floor and digging around in her backpack for her lunchbox. 

“So….you eat in here everyday?” Clay asks, staring around the stall, trying to read all of the writing and decipher all of the drawings on the walls. 

“Yeah, I usually eat in here and draw in my journal….you said you eat on the floor in the cafeteria? That sounds like fun.”

Clay snorts and shrugs. “It’s not too bad. I mean, everyone’s staring at me sometimes, but I usually just bury my face in a comic book and pretend that I’m somewhere else.”

Skye looks up at him with a sad, sympathetic smile. “Well, you can eat in here with me from now on…. if you want to.”

Clay smiles back at her. “Yeah… I think I will.”  
\--------------------------------

Tony sits at the dinner table long after the meal has ended, staring forlornly at the wooden tabletop and trying to think of what he can do to try and get rid of his guilt and help his friend.

“You look pensive tonight, Aristotle,” Sophia teases with a soft smile, glancing over her shoulder at her younger brother as she puts the last of the plates into the dishwasher.

Tony hums in response, letting out a sigh.

Sophia’s smile fades. “¿Estás bien?”

“No,” Tony answers honestly, letting out yet another sigh. “Sophia…. ¿Puedo hacerte una pregunta?

Sophia nods, suddenly looking serious as the grave as she pads across the kitchen to take a seat next to her younger brother. “Por supuesto…”

Tony looks over at his sister and nods, taking a moment to think about how to ask what he so badly needs a solution for. “Tienes que prometerme….. No puedes…… you can’t tell anyone, okay?”

Sophia nods again, face stoic with worry. “Mis labios están sellados.”

Tony sighs, still staring down at the tabletop intently. “Have you ever… have you ever had a friend who needs help but….. they don’t want it?”

Sophia clicks her tongue and lets out a heavy breath. “Um, no, but I think I understand what you’re saying. Is this friend….. are they in deep trouble?”

“Uh, well… people haven’t been treating them well and…. and they’re not doing so good because of how people have been treating them, but they don’t want to tell anyone about it. I want to tell someone so that it stops, but my friend is scared that if we tell the harassment will only get worse so…. I don’t really know what I should do….”

Sophia is silent for a minute, thinking over her brother’s conundrum. “Well…. What do you think is the right thing to do?”

Tony shakes his head and scrunches up his face. “Yo no sé, that’s why I’m asking you…. I hate watching this stuff happen, it’s really hard and I do all I can to keep it from happening but… it’s not enough. I’m not always there to protect them and…. and it’s even harder to watch the effect that the bullying has on my friend, they've gotten even more withdrawn and anxious about school and I just don’t know what I should do…. What if the bullying does get worse if I tell? Then what?”

Sophia nods, chewing on her bottom lip thoughtfully. “Well, it looks like you’re faced with what appears to be the easy solution and what appears to be the right solution, and I think deep down you DO know what the right thing to do is, don’t you?”

Tony hesitates before nodding. “I do but… I promised I wouldn’t tell….”

“Your friend might be mad at first, he might feel betrayed, but he’ll be thanking you later, I swear. I completely understand why he’s scared, I’d be scared, too, but if he’s frightened you have to be the brave one and get help.”

Tony nods again, looking over at his older sister in gratitude. “Thanks, Sophia.”

Sophia smiles gently at him before pulling him into a side hug. “No problem, Tony. Just remember that sometimes….sometimes doing the right thing instead of the easy thing is hard, and it can really suck, but…. you’ll be happy you did it down the road. Your friend will be, too.”

Tony smiles weakly and nods. He thanks his sister for her advice yet again before departing for his and Dante’s bedroom, a game plan already forming in his head.  
\------------------------

Over the next three weeks, the meaning of Sophia’s words really start to sink in for Tony. The easy thing and the right thing are very distinguished and not at all the same but….it’s hard to do the right thing at times, especially knowing you’ll most likely face backlash for doing so.

But Tony finally figures out exactly what he’s going to do, figures out who he’s going to tell and what exactly he’s going to tell them. He plans to march straight down to the guidance counselor’s office and report Bryce and his cronies, using specific examples of their asshole-ness and detailing the worst of their exploits. Then he’s going to give himself a high five internally later on in the day when the intercom goes off and summons Bryce down to the guidance counselor’s office to be chewed out and reprimanded for his actions.

And then, yes, maybe the jack asses will decide to strike back and Clay might be mad, but it’s the right thing to do, and Tony plans to continue reporting them and putting them in their place under his heel until they learn that messing with Clay Jensen has severe setbacks.

So on Monday morning, right after getting off the bus, Tony makes a beeline for the guidance department, head held high and walking briskly like a man with a cause. 

When he shows up at the guidance counselor’s office he’s seated right away as the counselor, Mr. Guwen, is not the least bit busy and has nothing better to do besides play solitaire on his cell phone. There are pleasantries exchanged, the counselor asking Tony how he’s doing and Tony doing the same, and then, without hesitation, Tony launches into the reason why he’s there.

And Mr.Guwen listens intently, nodding and occasionally taking out a ballpoint pen and scribbling something down on a spare piece of leaflet laid out on his desk.

He doesn’t say a word until Tony’s done.

“Thank you very much for enlightening me about this situation, Tony,” Mr. Guwen says with a curt nod after Tony finishes. “Wait here a minute and let me write you a note excusing your tardiness for your next class, okay?”

Tony walks out of that office feeling like a pile of bricks has just been lifted off of his chest. He absolutely beams at Bryce as the pass in the hallway, causing the latter extreme confusion.

Later in the day, as Bryce is sitting in front of the guidance counselor, all but being crucified as Mr. Guwen discusses his behavior and the need to contact his parents, the cheeky smile makes sense to him.

And he’s none too happy about it.  
\-----------------------------------------------

“Why can’t I see it?” Clay asks with a grin, trying to lean over and catch a glimpse of whatever it is that Skye is drawing in her notebook. 

“You can see it when I’m done,” Skye insists, smirking and pressing her back up against the stall door, keeping her drawing out of Clay’s line of vision.

“You’ve been working on this one for weeks now! When will it be done?”

“Soon.”

“You said that last Tuesday!”

Skye giggles, shaking her head. “Okay, I really, REALLY mean it this time. I promise.”

Clay jokingly huffs and crosses his arms over his chest, sitting back on his haunches and waiting. “I’ll take your word for it…. Is that one new?”

Skye looks up momentarily to see Clay’s eyes on her newest drawn-on tattoo. Her arms, hands, fingers, and calves are commonly covered with designs drawn on in pen. Skye’s parents are never too happy about it, but she’s a bit of a typical middle schooler when it comes to how much their opinion matters to her.

“Yeah, I drew it on in math. What do you think?”

“It’s a purple alligator,” Clay says with a small smile. “Why purple? Don’t you have any green pens?”

“I do but….purple alligators are meaningful to me.”

“Yeah?”

“Yeah. When I was little, I used to cry whenever my parents drove over a bridge. I don’t know why, I used to just get really scared and the next thing I knew, I’d be in tears. Anyway, my mom would always try and distract me by telling me to look out the window and try to find the purple alligator that she always insisted was there, right? So, instead of crying, I’d be looking around for a purple alligator…… I know that it probably sounds stupid but-”

“No, it doesn’t sound stupid at all. I think it’s sweet,” Clay says with a smile.

Skye pauses in her drawing for a moment to smile back. 

“Aaaaaand…..I’m done. What do you think?”

Clay eagerly takes the journal from Skye’s hands, turning it towards himself to take a look.

“Wow, Skye,” he breaths, staring with a look of astoundment on his face. He’s never really seen any of Skye’s drawings, by the time he’d fished her journal out of the toilet all of the ink was bleeding and weeping too much for the lines that they’d formed to be decipherable, so this is the first drawing by her that he’s ever really seen.

“Do you like it?” Skye asks with a shy smile, hiding her face behind her ink covered hands.

Clay smiles at her, cheeks red. “It’s….it’s amazing,” he says, lost for words as he gazes back down at the rather detailed drawing of Lady Shiva in a battle stance, beckoning any oncoming enemies. “Wow….how did you know she’s my favorite female Batman villain?”

Skye shrugs, still hiding behind her hands. “You’ve told me what a big Batman fan you are and, well, I kind of just guessed based off of what you said…. You talked about Poison Ivy being overrated and said that Catwoman was your second favorite….and then that one time you talked about how fighting without super powers or gadgets is your favorite, even though sometimes superhuman abilities and technology is cool. So, you know, I figured Lady Shiva was right up your alley…”

“It’s...it’s amazing, Skye,” Clay says with a laugh. “Seriously, it looks like a professional drawing in a comic strip.”

Skye lowers her hands, face aflame and sporting a timid smile. “Tear the page out, it’s yours.”

“Seriously? Thanks!” Clay says, sounding sincerely grateful as her carefully rips the page out. “This is so cool, Skye, thank you.”

“It’s really just average….”

Clay snorts. “If this is just average, your best must seriously look like it belongs in a museum, framed next to Picasso’s work.”

Skye’s blush deepens and she shrugs casually. “I’m glad you like it.”

Clay grins, opening his mouth, but is cut off by the blaring of the bell before he can utter the other compliment that had been on the tip of his tongue. He and Skye grab their bags and quickly make their way out of the restroom before the hallways become crowded. 

“Can you walk me to art?” Skye asks as she and Clay start to make their way down the hallway.

“Sure thing. How’s your painting going?”

“Pretty well….I’d tell you what I’m painting but it’s a surprise…” Skye says slyly, shooting Clay a smirk.

“Now you’ve got me wondering….” Clay replies with a goofy grin. “Can I at least have a hint?”

“Nope,” Skye hums teasingly. “You’ll just have to wait until I’m done and it’s up in one of the display cases for you see.”

Clay laughs and shakes his head. “You never give me any hints.”

“Because hints make it too easy to guess.”

“That’s the whole point!”

Skye laughs, shaking her head. “It’s almost done, you won’t have to wait long to see it.”

“Yeah, but still, I wish I at least had a hint so that-”

“Jensen!”

Clay and Skye both freeze in their tracks, looking over their shoulders to see none other than Bryce Walker quickly making his way towards them, a malicious sneer stretched across his face. “Jensen!”

“Come on, let’s just keep going,” Skye insists, grabbing Clay by the arm and trying to drag him along. “Ignore him!”

“Jensen, what’s the rush?! I need to talk to you!” 

“Clay, come on!”

“He looks pretty angry, Skye. He’ll just hunt me down later if I make a run for it now.... You go on ahead, I’ll see you in history.”

Skye sighs, looking over her shoulder anxiously at Bryce as he approaches them, his friend Marcus in tow. 

“I’m not leaving you alone with them,” she mutters, her grip on his arm tightening. “I’m either dragging you to your next class using brute force or I’m staying here with you.”

Clay chuckles weakly. “Since I’ve never seen any of that ‘brute force’, I guess you’re staying here with me.”

“Jensen!” Bryce yells again, shoving his way through a clique of sixth graders. “We need to talk!”

Clay swallows thickly before slowly nodding. “O-okay…..what-what do you-”

“Don’t act like you don’t already know, Schizoid,” Bryce sneers with a humorless snort. 

“I-I’m sorry, I really don’t know-”

Marcus laughs, shaking his head. “He’s just going to keep playing dumb, Bryce.”

Bryce rolls his eyes and huffs. “Okay then, look, Jensen, I know you had your latrino boyfriend go run his mouth to the guidance counselor. There’s no point in lying about it, okay? We already know.”

Clay feels his eyes widen and starts to shrink into himself. 

Tony went behind his back and told the guidance counselor everything. He’d asked him over and over again not to, he’d made him swear he wouldn’t at least six times.

“Serves you right,” Skye pipes up, sending a searing glare in Bryce’s direction. “I hope they give you at least a month of detention, that’s what you deserve for being such an asshole to everyone all the time….”

Bryce and Marcus both snort, lips twitching into malicious smiles. 

“Shut the hell up, Miller. Why don’t you go draw a vampire orgy in your freaky journal?” Bryce sneers, smile widening as Skye recoils and averts her gaze.

“You know, Bryce, you don’t have to be such a-”

“Oh, don’t get up on your high horse, Schizoid. Just shut up and listen! Your boyfriend being a snitch has seriously gotten me into some deep trouble. They're going to call my mom, and they’re planning on sending Montgomery, Justin, and Marcus down to the office later on today. I’ve got to deal with my mom’s nagging and going through the trouble of writing you a stupid apology letter later now! What the hell, man?! You can’t take a little teasing like everyone else so you go and have fucking Tony Padilla rat us out for nothing?!”

“Wow….” Clay mutters quietly, backing away. “Wow, yeah, I’m sorry…. I mean, how the hell do they expect you to write me an apology letter when you can barely read?”

Bryce’s eyes widen and he gapes, jaw nearly hitting the floor.

“I dare you to say that again, Jensen! I dare you, because I’m not kidding, I WILL deck you.”

Clay stiffens, starting to back down, his sudden bout of inexplicable bravery leaving him on the spot with knives pressed against his neck. 

Marcus snorts and shakes his head. “He’s not going to, he’s nothing but a pussy, Bryce. C’mon, we’re talking to Clay Jensen, the kid who can barely answer for himself in class without Padilla there to talk for him. Let’s just go.”

Bryce doesn’t budge though, taking another step towards Clay, glaring daggers at the scrawny boy. 

“Is he right, Schizoid? You just gonna stand there and wait for the goth to speak up for you?”

Clay swallows thickly, taking a step back as Bryce starts to get up in his face, trying to intimidate him into a corner. 

“See? Let’s just go, Bryce,” Marcus insists, already starting to walk away.

Bryce, now seeming content that he’s won the pissing contest, starts to back down. 

“I always knew it,” he says with a smirk. “Padilla’s the one who wears the pants.”

“Don’t worry, Clay,” Skye says, loud enough for Marcus and Bryce to hear. “He’s just mad because he has to play nice and look weak in front of his adoring fangirls.”

Bryce snorts, quickly reeling back around. “You know, Miller, you sure feel proud to open your big mouth and spew bull shit. Why don’t you run off and go cry in the bathroom like you used to? You’re a freak, so just keep out of this and go about your usual routine of crying. Figures you’re defending the Schizoid, Julia says you two eat lunch together in the girls’ room like the two little fags you are.”

Skye glares back at him, eyes starting to fill with tears. She’s admitted to Clay before that she cries whenever she’s angry, that she can’t help it, her eyes are already overflowing by the time she has any grip on her runaway emotions.

“Screw off, Bryce! Go bother someone else to impress bitchy girls like Julia, leave us alone!”

Bryce snorts, reaching out and grabbing Skye by her ponytail, yanking her towards him. “Is it true though? Do you really have Jensen eat in the GIRLS’ bathroom with you?! Like, seriously?! Because that’s pretty nasty, Miller.”

“Let go of me!” Skye shrieks, trying to shove him away. “Let go of me!”

“Hey, let her go!” Clay yells, grabbing Bryce by the shoulder and roughly shoving him into the wall, causing him to wince in pain and lose his grip on Skye’s hair. 

“I swear to God, Jensen….” he growls, moving to grab Clay instead, quickly flipping their positions. “You’re such a pussy, you couldn’t even go and tattle for yourself like most little kids can, you had to go and have your boyfriend do it for you. You can’t take the teasing everyone else can? You can’t take a stupid joke?!”

“You don’t tease, you throw his lunch into the toilet and slam him into the lockers!” Skye yells angrily, grabbing the attention of a few stragglers on their way to class, hurrying by the scene to avoid late marks. “You’re an asshole, Bryce! You never just tease anyone, you go and tear them to the ground like some kind of-”

“Shut the hell up, Miller!”

“Bryce!” Marcus hisses, starting to look uneasy. He knew they were going to intimidate the Jensen kid, back him into a corner and make him feel small so that he’d never dare to open his mouth or have Padilla open his mouth ever again, but this is seriously starting to get out of hand…..

And then things just spiral further out of control; Bryce holding Clay up against the wall and looking like he’s seriously about to beat the holy hell out of him for making him feel stupid, Skye starting to just scream incoherently in hopes of attracting a staff member’s attention, and Clay closing his eyes and turning his head to the side as he squirms, clearly expecting to be hit.

And then the tension finally explodes as Padilla comes running over out of nowhere, glaring craters into the back of Bryce’s head. Marcus looks away, knowing things are about to get really, really fucking bad.

It all goes down pretty quickly. Tony yanks Bryce off of Clay and throws him onto the floor, glaring down at him like a puma about to pounce. Bryce sneers back up at him, quickly getting back up onto his feet and telling Padilla, with a shit-eating smile, that his boyfriend is a pathetic pussy.

And then Tony punches him in the face.

And that’s that.

The sickening crunch of Bryce’s nose making contact with Tony’s fist is the only sound that echoes through the hallway until a nearby biology teacher, who’d been alerted of the commotion by one of her students, comes rushing to the scene.

When she gets there, all five children are silent, Tony and Bryce glaring at one another with enough venom to put a rattlesnake to shame, Marcus quickly trying to walk away and distance himself from the chaos, and Skye and Clay staring at one another in shock.

The first one to speak is Tony.

“Are you okay, Clay?”  
\--------------------------------------

The guidance counselor isn’t entirely sure how to handle the situation, as he’s aware of how delicate it is. 

Both Tony and Bryce tell their side of the story, which are naturally entirely different. Tony claims he was late to class because he had trouble opening his locker when he came across Bryce pinning Clay to a wall in a position to strike. Bryce claims that he and Clay had been talking like two civilized people when Tony suddenly came running up and decided to deck him for some bizarre, unknown reason.

Mr. Guwen is no fool, even after talking to Marcus, Justin, and Montgomery, who all vehemently swear Bryce is innocent. He knows it’s no coincidence that only a day after Tony decided to turn Bryce in that this all went down, he knows these kids fairly well based off of their records from the elementary school and he knows sure as hell that Tony would never start something like this without provocation. 

But Mr. Guwen knows that he can’t just punish Bryce and his friends’ for their offences without serious backlash from the Walkers, who are a very wealthy and influential family within the district that fund many of the sports teams and after-school programs at the high school.

It’s safe to say that his job is gone if he just punishes Bryce, so unfortunately, he has to punish Tony as well for breaking the school rules concerning appropriate conduct.

After all, he did break the Walker kid’s nose.

So, Mr. Guwen calls in the offending party’s parents to discuss the fight. 

Mr. and Mrs. Walker insist that their dear son was attacked, and that he would never pick on his classmates. In fact, they're rather angry that their boy is being punished at all. They pompously claim that they would sue the Padillas, but they know that if they did the whole family would end up out on the streets, so they refrain.

Mrs. Padilla is angry too, yelling at her son through the first half of the meeting until it dawns on her that the bullying was the real problem. After this epiphany, she starts yelling at Mr. Guwen about the rampant harassment issues at the school, insisting that her son’s foolish heroics would not be necessary if it weren’t for Bryce’s despicable behavior.

Mr. Guwen has to admit that he agrees.

The punishments are put into effect the day after the fight. Bryce is sentenced to three weeks of detention for harassing his classmates. Justin and Montgomery are given two weeks of detention for being assets and Marcus is given a mere three afternoons due to his smooth talking and claims of simply being a witness to the fight. 

They’re all forced to write an apology letter to Clay, and Bryce and Montgomery both have to write one to Skye Miller as well. 

Tony’s punishment is something that Mr.Guwen spends an entire evening debating. He knows he needs to punish Tony for hitting another student, especially since he went and hit none other than the untouchable Walker child. But at the same time….. He personally doesn’t feel as if Tony has really committed any offence. 

But, alas, he needs to punish the child to avoid being sacked, so, with a heavy heart, he sentences Tony to three weeks as well and instructs him to write an apology letter to Bryce.

Mr. Guwen oversees the exchanging of Bryce and Tony’s apology letters, reading them himself to make sure they sound apologetic enough. He has some doubts about Tony’s, but he lets it go anyway. Both boys awkwardly shake hands after the exchange, glaring at each other until Mr. Guwen escorts Bryce out of the office.

He tells Tony to stay behind for a few minutes, as he has an offer for him. Said offer is turned down the second it’s said, and Mr. Guwen lets Tony leave too, sighing heavily to himself.

Tony informs Clay and Skye of this offer at the end of the school day as they’re walking to the buses and he to the detention room.

“I can’t believe they gave you three weeks of detention,” Clay mutters, looking guilt-stricken.

“Yeah, it doesn’t seem fair. You were just trying to help, Bryce was the one that started all of this crap in the first place,” Skye says in agreement.

Tony just shrugs and smiles faintly. “It’s not that big of a deal. My brothers have gotten in WAY worse trouble before. The high school principal has threatened to expel Javier before, and Dante’s been suspended from the middle school at least twice now, Mateo three times. Three weeks of four hour detention isn’t all that bad.”

“Still,” Clay says with a sigh. “This is all my fault, Tony, I’m really sorry about all of this.”

“Hey, no, this isn’t your fault at all, Clay. It’s like Skye said, this is all Bryce and his asshole friends, they should’ve never been messing with you in the first place.”

“Yeah, Clay. This isn’t your fault,” Skye says, resting a hand on her friend’s shoulder. “Bryce got what he deserves….I would’ve expelled him if I were the guidance counselor.”

Clay sighs again. “I know, I still feel bad though. Do you think maybe if I talk to Mr. Guwen he’ll lessen your sentence? Maybe if I tell him how you did nothing but help me-”

Tony cuts his friend off with a shake of his head. “No, Clay. He won’t, he already offered me a lessened sentence and I turned him down.”

Clay and Skye both gape, shooting each other a look of astoundment.

“W-wait….you turned down his offer to lessen your sentence?!” Clay asks. “Tony, why the heck would you do that?! You don’t deserve to sit in detention, why didn’t you let him get you out?!”

“Yeah, Tony! What the hell?”

Tony shrugs. “I don’t think I’ll mind detention all that much, it’ll be nice and quiet, I’ll probably be able to sleep.”

“B-but, why?! Tony, seriously, why didn’t you take up Mr. Guwen’s offer?”

Tony lets out a heavy sigh, glancing over his shoulder to look Clay in the eye.

“Mr. Guwen said that instead of three weeks of detention, he’d only give me one if I just promised to never lay my hands on Bryce Walker or anyone else ever again.”

“Why didn’t you just say it? All you needed to do was say ‘I promise’ and you’d be out of detention way sooner,” Clay says, looking at his friend in complete disbelief.

“I couldn’t do it because I don’t lie, Clay.”

“What do you mean?”

“If Bryce ever gets the crazy notion that he gets to treat you however the hell he wants again, if he thinks he can just throw your lunch into the toilet, turn half of our grade against you, and call you names, I’ll put him in his place like I always do. But if he ever touches you again, Clay, and I mean EVER, I’m not going to just tell him to screw off. I’ll hit him, and I’ll hit him hard.”

Clay stares at Tony for a moment, still feeling guilty but grateful as hell at the same time. Skye smiles faintly at Tony as she squeezes Clay’s shoulder, whispering in his ear that she’ll have to draw Tony a picture of Batman to honor his heroic vigilantism. 

As they make their way down the hallway, Tony looking stoically ahead, refusing to go back on what he said, and Skye already rooting around in her backpack for her notebook, Clay figures that this is really it, the real deal.

This is what friendship is.


	4. Twelve

Rumors centered around Tony and Clay being in love with each other start to spread around the sixth grade like wildfire when they’re twelve.

Neither of them is sure who started these rumors, nor are either of them able to understand why everyone seems to find gossiping about it so fun, but one thing is undeniably clear: the talk of the two of them supposedly being in love is not going away anytime soon.

Tony first finds out about the rumors questioning the nature of his and Clay’s relationship in October. As he’s taking his seat in French class, he can’t help but notice that the two girls seated behind him are staring at him and trying to muffle their not-so subtle giggles behind their cupped hands. 

Tony initially brushes it off as nothing, knowing that middle school girls tend to be walking tabloids full of juicy gossip that isn’t the least bit true or worthy of his energy worrying about. However, as the bell rings and class gets started, he can’t help but begin to feel uneasy as their attention is still clearly set on him instead of the white board. 

“Do you really think it’s true?” One girl whispers in a hushed tone just barely loud enough for Tony to hear over the teacher’s droning. 

“I don’t know, do you?”

“Kind of. I mean….you can see it, right? It seems pretty believable.”

“It does but….that doesn’t mean it’s true. Sometimes people just say things so that there’s something to talk about, like that time Lucy said that Marcus and Courtney were a thing.”

“Yeah, but there’s actually some evidence to back this up, Rachel. It’s not like the rumor about Marcus and Courtney because, I mean, c’mon, it was pretty obvious from the start that was just Lucy trying to get attention. It was always clear that Courtney and Marcus didn’t like each other, but Clay and Tony? They’re pretty close for two guys who claim to just be friends, aren’t they?”

Tony feels himself go wide-eyed, his stomach dropping to his feet as his world within the goldfish bowl of middle school society momentarily ceases to turn.

Do people honestly think that he and Clay are in love? Do people seriously believe that they’re going out with each other in the typical middle school customs of courtship? He has to admit, he doesn’t really understand….why would anyone think such a thing? It’s not like they’ve ever done any of the gross, romantic stuff any of the other kids in school do to signify that they’re more than friends, like hold hands in the hallway or talk incessantly about dates that one of their moms drove them to.

“Yeah, they’re close, but that doesn’t necessarily mean that they’re gay.”

And there’s that magical word middle school boys just love to hurl at one another in an attempt to be offensive by undermining one another’s masculinity and strength. Tony has never really found the G-word to be offensive personally, as he believes that words are just words and that they hold no power unless he gives it to them. However, for some bizarre reason, the girls using the word ‘gay’ to describe him and Clay makes him feel a little uneasy, and he’s not sure why. 

“I don’t know, I still kind of think that it’s true. I mean, neither of them has ever had a girlfriend, right?”

“Right.”

“And they’re almost always together, right?”

“Uh....right.”

“So, it kinda just makes sense to reason that....well, you know!”

“But, Jen, what you’re saying isn’t exactly accurate.”

“What do you mean?”

“Well, you and I are close friends who spend a lot of time together, too, and neither of us has ever had a boyfriend. Using your logic, it would only make sense for the two of us to be together….and we’re not.”

“Yeah, but we’re girls, Rachel, and that makes a hell of a difference. Girls can be closer than boys can without it being gay, you know? Like….it’s normal for a girl to compliment the way another girl looks without it being weird, but when a guy calls another guy attractive….you automatically assume that he must be into other guys, right?”

Tony mulls over the one girl’s logic, trying to tie all of the ends together and see if there’s any merit to what she said. 

He sort of understands where she’s coming from….he’s seen plenty of girls be much more touchy-feely with one another than he’s ever seen any guys get, braiding each other’s hair and sitting in one another's laps. Two girls being overly affectionate with one another is pretty widely accepted as just being a sign of friendship, but if two guys were to sit in each other’s laps and have their hands rooted in one another’s hair….it would probably come off as a little queer….in more than one way.

“I see what you mean,” Rachel finally says after a few moments of thinking it over. “I still don’t know though, I don’t think I’ll believe it until I hear Tony or Clay say it aloud and confirm the rumors.”

“They’ll probably come out about it soon. I mean, everyone’s talking about it now, so what’s the point of trying to hide something that everyone already knows about?”

Tony swallows thickly, now completely derailed from the lesson going on in the front of the classroom and focused intently on the gossip session going on behind him.

Everyone’s talking about this?! Is that really true or just an over exaggeration? Everyone can’t really be so concerned with the status of his and Clay’s relationship….can they? Tony’s never really been the center of school-wide gossip, so he’s not entirely sure how to sift through these girls’ words to find the truth. 

“Tony, are you alright?”

Tony looks up from his blank notebook page to see that Madam Thomas is staring at him with a look of genuine worry on her wrinkly face. 

“What?”

“Are you feeling okay, dear? You look pale.”

“Uh, yes, I’m fine, Madam Thomas.”

“Are you sure? You look like you’re about to be sick.”

Tony nods again, feeling his cheeks flush as all fifteen sets of tween eyeballs swivel around to bore holes through him. “Yes, I’m sure.”

The French teacher nods and resumes the lesson, giving Tony a wary look, as if she expects him to suddenly projectile vomit across the classroom. 

Tony gradually feels himself relax as everyone around him slowly loses interest in staring at him like he’s an exhibit at the zoo and returns to taking notes on the proper way to conjugate verbs. He dives back into the lesson too, trying to catch up with where he left off when he zoned out all together in order to focus on the middle school equivalent of TMZ behind him.

However….he can’t help but keep his ears open, listening for any whispers behind him concerning the nature of his and Clay’s relationship. His mind is also not completely zeroed in on trying to understand the conjugation examples up on the board either, as it’s rather busy rerunning the conversation that he just eavesdropped in on, attempting desperately to make sense of it.  
\-------------------------------------

A weird weight seems to form over Tony’s chest and stomach after overhearing the gossiping girls behind him in his French class. 

At first Tony assumes it will just go away eventually, fade away and leave him feeling like he did before. However, after the school day ends and he still feels the strange pressure, he starts to have a bad feeling about the temporality of this unpleasant feeling. 

He still feels it that night at dinner, crushing his organs and chasing away his appetite.

He still feels it at night, keeping him wide awake as he stares at the ceiling anxiously.

He still feels it the next morning as he waits for the bus with his brothers.

The weight seems to become unbearably heavy once Tony arrives at school, making it hard to breath as he makes his way down the hallway. He feels as if most people he passes have his name on their tongue, and it’s honestly driving him up the walls.

During history, the weight on Tony’s chest further intensifies when he catches Bryce and his current squeeze smirking across the classroom at him, their eyes never leaving him as they whisper to one another.

The next day the weight is still painfully present, making Tony feel the need to walk faster in the hallways and avoid eye contact with his classmates at all costs. He knows that several of them are talking about him and Clay, as they suddenly stop talking when he looks over at them or walks by.

The weight just seems to intensify as the week drags on, slowly crushing Tony and suffocating him. He’s never felt this uncomfortable in his own skin, never felt so goddamn insecure. 

And everything just skyrockets and leaves him breathless when he sees Clay. 

Tony isn’t sure if it’s because he’s nervous that being around his friend will add fuel to the fire, encouraging the gossip to continue to circulate, or if it’s because he’s just embarrassed, but Tony finds himself steering clear of his best friend. Every time he sees Clay, he feels the weight on top of him completely squash him, leaving him out of breath and uncomfortable with both the situation and himself. 

It’s a horrible feeling, one that Tony finds he can’t handle on his own but is too scared to share with anyone else.  
\-------------------------------------

“I can’t decide which one would look better….what do you think, Tony? Purple or blue?” Skye asks, sliding her painting across the heavily vandalized art table for him to see. “Tony?”

Tony doesn’t hear Skye’s question, staring blankly across the classroom at nothing in particular. His half-finished, half-decent painting of a skyline sits in front of him, untouched so far this class period. He’s been to preoccupied with his thoughts to paint or even act like he’s focused on the task at hand.

“Tony? Hey, earth to Tony!” Skye calls, eyebrows knitting together in concern as she reaches out to gently shake her friend by the shoulder. “Hey, seriously, what the hell are you looking at?”

Tony is startled when Skye jostles him, eyes snapping back from the mermaid mural on the wall opposite of him to focus in on Skye’s worried face. 

“Uh, sorry, Skye. I’ve just been kinda….”

“Distracted?”

“Yeah, distracted. What’s up?”

Skye hesitates, staring at Tony with a look of deep concern. “Are you okay?”

“Me? Yeah, I’m fine, why?”

“You’ve just been….really distant the last week. Clay and I are kinda worried about you.”

Tony frowns, a slight feeling of guilt welling up inside of his chest. He hadn’t meant to worry his friends, he’s just been feeling a little insecure the last couple of days and it’s been hard on him, as he’s never really felt all that insecure about himself before, never thought of who he is as being worthy of scrutinization by his peers. 

“There’s nothing to be worried about, Skye, I’ve….I’ve just been feeling a little out of it the last week. Don’t worry about it, okay?”

Skye doesn’t seem convinced, her eyes still glued to him as she squirts a blob of purple paint onto her pallet. “Would you tell me if something was wrong?” 

“Of course.”

Skye still seems leery, even as she resumes her work. 

“Man, your paintings and drawings always put mine to shame,” Tony says with a faint smile, glancing over at Skye’s detailed, multi-shaded blue jay painting. 

He’s attempting to not so-subtly change the topic of their conversation, just like he’s observed his brothers do numerous times when the focus of any talk begins to shift towards their wrong doings. They always begin to compliment whichever family member began to interrogate them, playing off of peoples’ love to talk about themselves. However, Skye is not as easily duped as Tony’s abuela and sister are, and she easily picks up on his not-so sly tactics.

“Did Clay do something to piss you off?” She asks, catching Tony completely off-guard. “Because the last week he says that you’ve kind of been avoiding him and, like I said, you’ve seemed kind of down and aloof.”

“Uh, no, no,” Tony says, shaking his head. “I’m not mad at Clay, not at all. Does he….does he think I am?”

Skye nods. “He’s been really worried about it because he doesn’t know what he did to upset you.”

“He didn’t do anything,” Tony mutters quickly, shaking his head again. “Oh, man….I really need to talk to him and set him straight….”

“Yeah, you really do, because he’s convinced that he must’ve done something to offend you.”

Tony sighs, feeling the pang of guilt in his chest morph into a heavy, intolerable pounding. He hadn’t meant to make Clay think he was angry, he didn’t really mean to avoid him….was he avoiding him? Tony reruns the last week through his head, trying to remember how much he’s interacted with his best friend, trying to recall how much they’ve talked.

Tony quickly realizes, with a cold flash of dread in the pit of his stomach, that he hasn’t talked to Clay at all. And, even worse, he sort of brushed the other boy off the other day in English class when he tried to approach him. Tony cringes and shifts in his seat, staring down at his lap and looking guilty as a dog who just peed all over its owners new rug.

“Don’t worry, Tony, it’ll be fine once you clear everything up with him,” Skye says reassuringly, Tony’s kicked-puppy look not going by unnoticed. “He’ll be super relieved to hear that you’re not pissed off at him. You know Clay, he was going over everything he’s ever said to you to try and figure it out.”

Tony cringes again and nods. Yes, he knows Clay, he knows Clay better than anyone else in the damn school, and the notion of him rerunning anything that he’s ever said to Tony through his head to try and figure out what he could have possibly done to offend him is not at all a crazy idea. 

“I’ll have to talk to him in English…”

“Yeah….but, Tony, I mean….you kind of have been avoiding him, his worrying isn’t all that unfounded for once. What’s up?”

Tony tries to laugh breezily and shrug off Skye’s concern, but all that comes out of his mouth is an extremely odd sounding squeak. 

“It’s nothing, really, I just….I heard these girls talking about something a few days ago that’s kind of thrown me for a loop.”

“What were they talking about?” Skye asks, pausing in her painting to give Tony her undivided attention. 

“Well….” Tony, feeling just as uncertain of himself as Clay does on a daily basis, looks around the art room before speaking, making absolutely sure that no one is listening in on them. “They were talking about Clay and me, and….”

“And what?” Skye asks, feeling uneasy herself as Tony starts to flush. She’s never seen him look this uncomfortable before, he always seems so laid back and relaxed, balancing out Clay’s anxious, high-strung demeanor. 

“They were debating whether or not Clay and I are, like….together. In a romantic way.”

Skye tries to bite back the teasing smile threatening to spread across her face. “Tony, people gossip about that kind of stuff all the time. I wouldn’t worry about it too much, it’ll probably blow over in a week or two once everyone gets bored of talking about it.”

“But….they said that everyone’s talking about it and they called us gay….”

“Tony, ‘everyone’ really only implies the people that they deem as important, people they talk to. Look at it this way, I haven’t heard anyone talking about you guys being a thing, so….not everyone is talking about it.”

“I’m just nervous that Clay or one of my brothers will hear about it…”

“Hey, if Clay has heard the rumors, he doesn’t seem all that bothered by them. He hasn’t said anything to me.”

“But if my brothers hear that people are calling me gay….”

“Don’t worry about it,” Skye says, shaking her head. “Being called gay really isn’t all that much of an insult if you think about it. If they call you gay and you aren’t, then they’re wrong. If they call you gay and you are, then they’re just stating a fact.”

Tony can’t help but feel as if Skye has just helped him have a life-altering epiphany of sorts as he stares at her in silent gratitude. 

She really is brilliant.

“I guess I’ve never thought about it that way, it’s just….it kind of makes me feel uncomfortable.”

“Being called gay?”

“Yeah.”

“Why? Do gay people make you uncomfortable?” Skye asks, giving Tony an odd look. 

“No….I mean, at least I don’t think so, I’ve never met a gay person. It’s just that….I think that gay people make them uncomfortable. I don’t know for sure, but if they’re anything like any of my aunts and uncles…”

“How do your parents feel about gay people? Your brothers are probably more influenced by your mom and dad than your extended family.”

Tony shrugs and looks down at his lap. “I’ve never heard either of my parents say anything about gay people. I’d guess that they’re probably not exactly okay with them because my mama is really religious, she takes notes when we go to church, and my papa is real strict about us listening to the priest during mass and stuff….” Tony cuts himself off with another shrug, still refusing to make eye contact. 

“Well….it’s just a rumor,” Skye says awkwardly, suddenly zeroing in on her work. “Like, I said, if it isn’t true, then there’s nothing to worry about. That’s all there is to it.”

“Yeah,” Tony mutters, still feeling incredibly uncomfortable. He shifts in his seat again and sighs, guilt and a strange sense of insecurity clashing disagreeably in the pit of his stomach.  
\-------------------------------------

Clay has spent the last week miserably wondering, ‘what the hell is wrong with me?’, not unlike the mass majority of his pubescent classmates. However, his contemplation as to if he’s a worthy human being is not stimulated by overheard rumors or snubs from his more popular classmates, but from Tony’s sudden, inexplicable absence from his everyday life. Clay is seriously starting to wonder if he’s permanently chased his best friend away.

“He says he’s not mad at you,” Skye assures him during lunch, cutting him off before he can launch into his ramblings of everything he’s ever said or done to Tony Padilla. “He’s going to talk to you today in English.”

Clay fidgets nervously, not looking convinced. “What else did he say?”

“He says he’s just been feeling a little down the last week, so he pulled away from everyone to recollect himself. Don’t worry about it, Clay, he says he’s not mad.”

“Why has he been feeling down?” Clay asks, guilt suddenly morphing into worry. “Is he okay?”

“Yeah, he’s fine, it’s just that…” Skye pauses, biting her lip and wondering if it’s really her place to disclose the rumors that seem to have Tony’s stomach in knots. 

“It’s just what?”

“It’s just that Tony….he overheard some rumors that really bugged him and he’s kind of having trouble dealing with them.”

“What rumors?” Clay asks dubiously, having a hard time believing that something as trivial as gossip would get to someone secure and seemingly resilient like Tony.

“There’s some people talking about the two of you,” Skye says slowly, still internally debating if she’s doing the right thing by telling Clay about it rather than letting Tony handle it how he wants to. “They’re saying things about the two of you….about the two of you being more than friends.”

Clay’s look of disbelief fades. He stays perched on the toilet, staring blankly at a passage on the stall wall about someone named Lindsey being a slut and cheating on Ben.

“Oh.”

“Yeah.”

“I, uh…I didn’t know that people were saying stuff like that. Do you think anyone actually believes it or is it just people talking?”

Skye shrugs. “I hadn’t heard anything about it until Tony told me. I’d assume it’s just like most of the other rumors around here; nothing but crap people are saying just for the sake of having something to talk about.”

Clay nods in agreement. “That’s what I’d assume…..is that why Tony’s avoiding me? So that people don’t think that we’re, like, together?”

Skye nods, hiding her face behind her journal. In all honestly, she isn’t sure why the rumors have Tony has strung out as he is, as it seems to be more about people, particularly his family, thinking that he’s gay. Skye just doesn’t get it, because it’s really nothing more than a rumor, and if any of Tony’s brothers were to overhear them, they’d certainly think the same. 

So why is Tony so uncomfortable? 

Why is he so bothered by these rumors?

“Is he really going to talk to me during English class or did you just tell me that to make me feel better?” Clay asks, looking wary as always. 

“I wouldn’t tell you something just to spare your feelings,” Skye assures him with a snort. “Trust me.”

Clay nods, lips twitching into a nervous smile. “Okay. I...I’ve just been really nervous with Tony avoiding me and all…”

“I could tell,” Skye says dryly. 

“I just….I guess I kind of wonder who started these rumors, you know?”

“People who are insanely bored with their lives and are looking to stir up trouble,” Skye assesses with the accuracy of a world-renowned heart surgeon. “I wouldn’t let it get to you.”

Clay shrugs as he starts to peel the saran wrap off of his tuna sandwich. “It doesn’t really bother me all that much. Like, I think it’s sort of weird that people would gossip about something like that, I’ve never really understood gossip in general, but I mean….it’s pretty typical, right?”

Skye can’t help but stare at Clay in slight disbelief for a moment. He’s not at all perturbed by these rumors yet Tony’s in anguish? 

Skye briefly wonders if she has entered the twilight zone, as it seems that the typical situation has been completely reversed. Usually Tony is the one who’s unaffected by drama and others’ opinions whilst Clay is ruffled and often confused by all of the typical preteen bull shit. Something seems seriously amiss, and Skye is even more confused by Tony’s attitude towards the rumours. 

“Yeah, it’s pretty typical,” she mutters, the exact opposite sentiment echoing in her head.  
\-------------------------------------

Clay feels incredibly nervous throughout his English class at the end of the day, catching Tony staring across the classroom at him no less than seven times. It makes Clay feel awkward, not sure if he should shoot his friend a smile, wave at him, or simply look away.

He ends up looking away each time with flushed cheeks and a weird feeling in his stomach, trying his best to ignore the nagging little voice in his head that refuses to quit hissing that Skye lied to him to get him to calm down and that Tony really has gone running for the hills with no intention of coming back. 

After the bell rings, Clay hurries to pack up, his nerves getting the best of him and urging him to hurry away before Tony can come up to him to voice his anger or blow him off again. However, before Clay can shove his binder into his backpack and push his way through the thick crowd of students all trying to force their way through the door, Tony approaches him.

“Hey, Clay.”

Clay swallows thickly before looking up to meet his friend’s gaze, lips twitching into an anxious smile. “Hey, Tony.”

“I, uh, wanted to talk to you and explain myself,” Tony says, cheeks flushing as he looks down at the floor. “Skye told me in art class today that you’ve been feeling anxious because you think that I’m mad at you, and I just wanted to clear things up and let you know that I’m not at all angry with you, Clay. You haven’t done anything to make me upset with you.”

Clay laughs weakly, shrugging on his backpack. “It’s okay, Tony, don’t worry about. I’m really relieved to hear that you aren’t angry at me though, it kind of had me strung out.”

“No, Clay, it’s...it’s not okay. Me avoiding you wasn’t cool,” Tony says, shaking his head and following Clay out of the classroom. “I feel awful to have been a reason for you to stress out. That’s….that’s not what good friends do.”

“Friends don’t stress other friends out?”

“No. Friends also don’t avoid other friends. I’m really sorry, Clay….”

“You really don’t need to apologize to me, Tony.”

“Yeah, actually, I do,” Tony insists, reaching out to grab Clay by the shoulder and keep him close as they make their way through the mass of students shoving their out the front doors. “Me handling my own dumb insecurities by avoiding you is entirely unfair.”

Clay reinforces his twitchy, nervous smile in a sad attempt to reassure his friend that nothing is wrong. “Aw, Tony, really it’s-”

“No,” Tony says, cutting him off with a shake of his head. “It’s not fine, Clay. I...let me make it up to you.”

Clay looks over and feels himself flush when he sees the earnest look on his friend’s face. “Uh, what do you mean?”

“Let’s go down to the ice cream stand by the movie theatre. I’ll buy you a cone or whatever you want and we can talk, make up for the last week when we haven’t really seen each other much.”

“I don’t know, Tony, my dad-”

“You can call him from the phone booth and tell him where you are. I’ll walk you home afterwards.”

Clay slowly nods, allowing Tony to lead him out of the school building and away from the line of yellow buses. “Okay, sounds good.”

“Yeah?” Tony asks, an uncharacteristically shy smile spreading across his face.

“Yeah.”  
\-------------------------------------

The little, run down ice cream stand jammed between the equally as tired looking dollar store and the Crestmont Theatre isn’t the least bit busy, Tony and Clay being the establishment’s only customers. The zit-faced teen behind the counter is half-asleep when they approach to order.

“Are you sure you want to buy my cone for me?” Clay asks, feeling awkward as Tony roots around in his backpack for spare lunch money. “I can buy it myself, I’ve got five dollars on me…”

“No, no,” Tony mutters, eyebrows furrowing in concentration as he counts the change in his palm. “I’ve got this…”

Clay blushes, watching as Tony dumps his handful of dimes and quarters out onto the questionably clean countertop, causing the teen to frown in irritation.

It’s clear that she would have strongly prefered for them to pay with Clay’s five dollar bill.

“One blue moon in a bowl and one chocolate in a waffle cone, please,” Tony says, watching the worker grumble to herself as she skulks over to freezers in the back of the cramped room. 

“Thanks,” Clay mutters with a smile.

“Don’t mention it,” Tony replies with a shrug, another unusually uncertain smile appearing on his face. The weird smiles and flushed cheeks honestly make Clay feel a little uneasy. 

“So, um…how have you been the last week?” 

“Alright. And you?”

“Uh, anxious….as always,” Clay jokes weakly with an awkward laugh that makes Tony’s smile widen and become more natural looking. “Hey, um, earlier you said that you’d been feeling insecure lately? What’s...what’s up with that?” Clay asks, despite already knowing the answer.

“Uh, well, there’s something I need to tell you,” Tony admits. “It’s not a big deal, but...you should probably know about it.”

“What?”

Before Tony can answer, the grumpy worker reappears at the counter window with their ice cream, mumbling what they owe as she eyes up the pile of coins on the countertop with dismay. Tony assures her that it’s all there. The worker doesn’t seem amused, even after Tony tells her to keep the change.

“You should’ve let me pay,” Clay mutters as they seat themselves at one of the little, red tables in the parking lot, glancing over at the scowling teenager.

“It’s on me, okay?” Tony affirms with an amiable smile. “Don’t worry about it.”

Clay lets it slide, smiling back across the table at Tony as he picks up his plastic spoon and begins to eat. “What was it that you wanted to tell me?”

“Well, I started to avoid you because I was feeling kind of insecure about this rumor that I’d overheard these girls talking about in my French class,” Tony admits, looking ashamed. “I know it was stupid of me to have been so unhinged by something as dumb as gossip, but...I was.”

“It’s okay, Tony.”

“Stop saying that, Clay. It’s really not,” Tony mutters, shaking his head. “I let a stupid rumor get to me, which is ridiculous.”

“Sometimes even the best of us are brought down by the small, stupid stuff,” Clay says with a sympathetic smile. 

“Yeah but….ignoring you? It was wrong….” Tony says, still looking guilt stricken. “And it was selfish of me to have just cut you off this last week. And the rumor that got to me….it wasn’t just about me, it was about both of us.”

“Really?” Clay asks, trying to sound genuinely surprised. “What...what was it?”

“Well….apparently our classmates are saying that the two of us are….together. In….in a romantic sense, you know?”

“Oh,” Clay mutters, still trying his best to seem at least somewhat surprised by all of this. “Oh...okay. Uh, and this….this bothers you?”

“Well,” Tony mutters, squirming in his seat and refusing to make eye contact. “Yeah, a little bit. These girls, they called us gay, and that really got to me.”

“So….you avoided me so that people would stop thinking that we’re gay?” Clay asks. 

There’s a slight pause.

“Yes,” Tony says hesitantly, biting his lower lip and looking as if he’s still keeping some vitally important detail of this situation to himself. Thankfully for Tony, Clay isn't nearly as observant as Skye is, and this look of discomfort goes by unnoticed. 

“Oh. So, uh, does that mean you’ll keep avoiding me until people stop talking about us being gay?” Clay asks, looking worried. He’s really missed having Tony around this last week and he hopes dearly that he won’t continue to steer clear of him. 

“No,” Tony quickly assures him, shaking his head. “No, of course not. I realize now how wrong I was to do that….and I’ve missed you.”

Clay’s cheeks turn bright pink and he smiles bashfully down at his bowl of ice cream. “I’ve missed you, too. I’m sorry that you’ve been so stressed out because of these rumors. I wish you would’ve told me, though....we could’ve talked about it…”

“I know, I wished that I would’ve just talked to you, too,” Tony says with a sigh. “My mama always says that good communication is key…”

Clay laughs quietly, shooting Tony another shy smile. “Well, we’re communicating now, aren’t we?”

“Yeah, I guess we are,” Tony says, returning the timid smile. “It’s just….I don’t understand why people think we’re together, you know? The girls in my French class only seemed to think that we’re gay because we’re close with one another and neither of us have ever had a girlfriend.”

“That’s dumb,” Clay mutters, face scrunching up thoughtfully. “I don’t think being close with another guy and never having had a girlfriend makes either of us gay. Being gay means that you like people of the same sex, doesn’t it?”

“Yeah.”

“Okay so….I don’t like other guys,” Clay says with a nonchalant shrug. “Sure, I’ve never had a girlfriend, but there’s girls that I think are hot.”

Tony has to laugh out loud, the word ‘hot’ sounding sinfully wrong coming out of Clay’s mouth. “Yeah?”

Clay giggles and nods. “Yeah. Jill Kinley is really pretty, I like how all of the freckles on her cheeks look and she’s got nice…uh...you know...” Clay trails off, his cheeks flushing again. “So, you know, I like girls. I’m not gay.”

Tony hums pensively, a small smile on his face. “I see.”

“What about you? Like, obviously you don’t have to answer that if you don’t know or if it makes you uncomfortable, but, do you like girls?”

“I’m not gay,” Tony says simply. “I have to admit though...there’s not really any girls that I find attractive.”

“No?”

“No,” Tony says, shaking his head. “I don’t think that I’m gay, though.”

Clay shrugs. “Doesn’t really matter if you are….not to me, anyway.”

“I’m not,” Tony says, suddenly taking a stern tone. “I don’t like guys.”

Clay flushes, feeling as if he’s somehow suddenly struck a nerve. “Okay. So, you’re not gay.”

“No.”

Clay nods, swallowing thickly. “So, you don’t find any girls or any guys attractive?”

Tony hesitates to answer, eyes locked on the faded, plastic tabletop.

“No.”

“Alright then,” Clay says with another nod. “Then….the rumors are just dumb. We’re just two not-gay guys who are really good friends. Anyone who thinks differently is probably just saying stuff for the sake of having new gossip to spread.”

“Yeah,” Tony agrees. “It’s just a stupid rumor and I’m really sorry that I let it get to me and isolated myself. That really wasn’t cool.”

“It’s fine,” Clay says with a soft smile. “It’s behind us now, it’s over.”

Tony nods, a small grin spreading across his own chapped lips. “It is. So...seriously, what interesting events have I missed in the ever-stressful life of Clay Jensen?”

Clay laughs, shaking his head. “Nothing interesting. If my life were a novel, it’d be about as interesting as an algebra textbook.”

“Aw, c’mon, I’m sure something at least mildly interesting must’ve happened to you over the last week.”

“Well....I had to crawl around underneath my dad’s desk to find his laptop charger for him,” Clay offers with a shrug. “And on Tuesday I accidentally put a spoon in the microwave. You know, interesting stuff like that.”

“Tell me all about it.”

Clay laughs, shaking his head. “You seriously want me to tell you about the quest for my dad’s laptop charger and my anxiety-caused sleep deprivation that led to me making a dumb mistake?”

“I really have missed you,” Tony says, the warm smile on his face making Clay’s heart begin to beat faster. 

“Apparently so,” Clay says through another laugh. “Alright then, uh, if you really are that desperate to hear my voice…”

“Start with the quest for the laptop charger. It intrigues me.”  
\-------------------------------------

Things between Tony and Clay seem to go back to normal the next week at school. Sure, the rumors are still flying around in the hallways like an immortal swarm of wasps, but Tony seems to have come to terms with them and found his peace. All is well within his psyche again, as he’s tuned himself back into his usual good vibrations.

Clay is thankful and beyond relieved to have his best friend back. He’s aware that it was only a week without Tony’s always-appreciated presence, but it was a very strange and exceptionally stressful week for him without his friend at his side. 

Clay is also glad that the two of them talked everything over to eradicate any awkwardness that could have formed between them, as he likes the immense feeling of relief that he gets from discussing things that have been weighing on his mind. It’s something that doesn’t happen in the Jensen household much, if ever, so the fact that he and Tony can talk about anything uncomfortable between them makes him feel secure and at ease with both himself and their friendship.

It seems that over the last four years Tony has easily become the single person on planet earth that makes Clay feel as if human relationships aren’t absolutely terrifying. 

The Wednesday after things fall back into their usual pattern, Tony and Clay’s English class is assigned a partner project, making Clay all the more thankful that he and Tony’s relationship is back to normal.

“We’ll probably have until next Monday to get this done,” Clay mutters, hurriedly jotting down their preamble. “So...if we finish our intro today, spend tomorrow prewriting our paragraphs, do our conclusion on Friday, and meet up over the weekend to clean it all up...we should be good.”

“Alright, sounds like a plan,” Tony agrees with a nod. “Your house might be easier to work at….it’s a lot quieter than mine ever is.”

Clay snorts and nods. “Yeah, agreed. So….can you do Saturday at noon?”

“Yeah, probably.”

Clay nods again, looking up to shoot Tony a rare and treasured anxiety-free smile. However, said smile quickly becomes twitchy and strained as Clay’s eyes wander over Tony’s shoulder, landing on a group of girls huddled around Courtney Crimsen’s desk. 

Tony, wondering what caused Clay’s sudden shift in demeanor, looks behind him to catch all four girls staring right back at him, giggling and whispering to one another. 

“It would seem that we’re being watched,” Tony observes aloud, trying to brush it off casually to help Clay relax. “I guess we really are all that interesting, Clay.”

“I guess so,” Clay mutters with a shaky laugh, eyes still locked on the herd of gossiping girls across the classroom. 

“Hey, that’s Jill Kinley, isn’t it?” Tony asks, glancing back over at the girls ogling at them. “The one in the blue t-shirt?”

Clay dares another look over at his spectator’s and nods, his cheeks flushing an even deeper shade of red. “Yeah, that’s….that’s her.”

Tony makes a quiet noise of acknowledgement in his throat, looking the girl who’s considered attractive in Clay Jensen’s eyes over, trying to gauge what about her has Clay flushing and squirming in his seat. 

“I think that she just saw me staring and looked me in the eye,” Clay whispers, sounding rather horrified. “Tony, wh-what do I do?”

“Look away?” Tony suggests with a shrug. “Act like you weren’t staring.”

“But it’s pretty obvious that I am!” Clay hisses, sinking down in his seat and trying to disappear underneath the desk. He quickly averts his eyes to the floor. “Tell me when she’s not looking over here!”

“You’re fine, she’s looking at her paper now,” Tony says, watching as the girls seem to lose interest in them, instead finally deciding to work on their project. “You’re in the clear, Clay.”

“Okay,” Clay mutters, slowly peering over the lip of the desk to make sure Tony’s telling the truth before sitting back upright in his seat. “I hope she doesn’t think I’m a freak for staring at her….”

“To be fair, she was staring at you first,” Tony points out with a chuckle. 

“Yeah but...they were staring at me to gossip, I was just staring back at her like a brainless zombie…”

“Clay,” Tony murmurs, shaking his head. “You’re fine. She’s not even paying any attention to you anymore.”

Clay sighs, still looking flustered and uncomfortable. He quickly glances back over at Jill, stealing another look. 

“She’s got really nice hazel eyes, you know?” Clay mutters. “They’re all these different shades of brown mixed together….and her freckles, I really like them….especially when she smiles and you can see her dimples. And she’s got nice breasts….not to be gross but….she does, you know?”

Tony hums dismissively, his eyes elsewhere. If Clay wants to stare at Jill’s breasts, that’s fine with him, but Tony has to admit that he has zero interest. 

He finds the awe-struck boy in front of him much more captivating and appealing to the eye….not that he’d ever say so out loud or even admit it to himself.


	5. Thirteen

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> HEY: I'm so sorry for the wait! I've just been really overloaded with school work lately, and to add to the chaos, I just recently got my first job since I'm now of legal working age. I love my job, don't get me wrong, it's rewarding and I thoroughly enjoy what I'm doing, but my shift hours are still kind of crazy with orientation training and trying to hammer out a solid schedule. 
> 
> Because of this new, hectic schedule, I didn't put as much effort into this chapter as I have the others...so I apologize if it's not as good...

Tony manages to completely ruin his own life when he and Clay are thirteen. 

Naturally such a dramatic statement is bound to be met with smirks and mass eye rolling, especially if uttered by someone within their idle teenage years. Tony is well aware of this, he knows that most people would just assume he’s being melodramatic and overreacting to some petty junior high problem, but he’s not. 

He’s dead serious.

He just managed to fuck up his entire life.

Tony Padilla promises to use his story as a cautionary tale for anyone else threatening to fall into the same trap that he did. He figures that he may as well put his misery to some use by helping any other fuckwits who think that they may be about to screw up their lives by committing the worst of the mortal sins, maybe only after cold-blooded murder.

He’ll use his tale of woe to save any other lost soul from making the mistake of falling in love with their best friend.

Tony’s still not entirely sure how the hell this happened to him. He supposes that he can’t really control his emotions, the young, hormonal heart and groin both want what they want, but still...he feels like a fucking fool.

Of course, he just has to be in love with Clay Jensen of all people. He can’t possibly make life any easier on himself by falling for anyone else, oh God, of course not.

The realization that his feelings for Clay had started to change in some pretty terrifying ways didn’t really hit Tony until the end of the sixth grade year. Sure, he’d begun to take notice of how attractive Clay was several months before school let out, but Tony had assumed that was perfectly okay and normal. Friends could admire one another’s eyes and smile without it being weird, right? It didn’t necessarily mean anything, he was just looking. After all, God did bestow the blessing of sight upon him.

However, as time wore on, Tony started to realize that the blatant staring during class and weird feelings of constriction in his chest weren’t as normal and innocent as he’d been hoping. It slowly dawned on him that maybe, just maybe, it was a little strange that he was more interested in staring at his friend than the blossoming teenage girls all around him.

All of the other seventh grade boys admire their female classmates, whispering about their bodies, brains, and charisma amongst themselves at lunch. Tony can’t help but wonder why his fellow male classmates are so interested in female mammary glands and nicked up, just-shaved legs.

All of the other boys find visible bra straps and the shorts worn by the girls’ volleyball team scandalous and sexy. Tony honestly couldn’t care less about what his fellow female classmates are wearing, as long as they’re clothed. 

All of the other boys seem absolutely enthralled with the likes of Lucy Liu and Scarlett Johansson, and Tony once again finds himself not the least bit intrigued.

It’s not that Tony dislikes girls. 

No, he has nothing against the opposite sex, nothing at all, he just admittedly doesn’t find them as stunning as the other boys. He doesn’t feel his nether regions heat up when they jump rope in gym class, nor is he memorized by their shimmery, lip gloss smiles. In Tony’s eyes, they’re simply not the spawn of Aphrodite that the other boys claim them to be, they’re just….girls. Flawed, hormonal, teenage girls that hold the attention of equally flawed, hormonal teenage boys.

Tony initially blames his lack of interest in girls on having an older sister. He supposes that maybe since he has one of the miraculous beasts living at home with him, he just doesn’t find them all that interesting. Maybe Sophia killed the magic for him. After all, Tony has seen her perform all of the feminine practices that mystify other boys his age; he’s watched her apply eyeliner with a steady hand, observed her shaving her underarms, and been present to witness her purchase boxes of sterile smelling tampons.

But still…..Tony’s older brothers all have immense fascination with ‘las chicas guapas’….and they live with Sophia, too. 

Javier has had a girlfriend since freshman year of high school. Her name is Roselle Dahlberg, and they have sex every Tuesday evening in her twin bed while her mother is on shift at Denny’s and her father is at AA.

Mateo talks about girls almost incessantly. He keeps a poster of Pamela Anderson from her Baywatch days up on the wall next to his bed. Javier claims that he stares at it when he masturbates, but Mateo vehemently denies this. 

Dante keeps PlayBoy magazines that he bought from the gas station underneath his mattress. Tony stole one once and flipped through it out of curiosity, only to find himself underwhelmingly unstimulated. He still doesn’t understand why the models are called bunnies, as there’s really nothing sexy about Peter Cottontail or Max and Ruby. Apparently such a misnomer doesn’t bother Dante.

Tony supposes that he just doesn’t have the right mindset when it comes to girls. To make matters even worse, the way he’s supposed to feel about and look at them is the way he feels about and looks at Clay.

It’s all backwards in Tony’s head, and it’s making him question whether or not something is seriously wrong with him. He feels like it’s his head, like maybe his brain is wired incorrectly and he’s just incapable of feeling the way he should about girls. Sometimes he thinks that he just hasn’t grown into it all yet, and once he’s in high school he’ll suddenly see what all of the fuss is about and find his weird feelings towards Clay fading.

Maybe he’ll be normal yet. 

Tony finds himself praying about it at night before he drifts off, asking God to fix him underneath his breath, asking Him to make his thoughts about his friend stop and help him find the divine beauty in female anatomy.

God seemingly ignores Tony’s pleas for help.  
\---------------------

There are times when Clay truly envies the ugly little quails and vireos flying overhead, simply flapping their wings to pick themselves up off the ground and get away from their problems. 

He wishes he could do that.

It’s not that Clay has a hell of a lot to get away from, he’s by no means like Butch Cassidy and the Sundance Kid, robbing banks and taking off with the money before the law can catch up with him, but he does have some demons that seem to have made keeping him on edge their favorite pastime.

The worst part is that Clay knows that he’s being irrational afterwards, knows that it’s all in his head and that he’s probably making fucking Mount Everest out of a stupid mound of wet sand, but he can’t help it.

He constantly feels like he’s under the scrutiny of his classmates, his name being tossed around as the butt of every joke and the pariah worthy of scorn.

He always feels as if his mother and father are beyond disappointed with him, wishing for a son with a higher social IQ and the ability to take on extra curricular activities without fear.

He can never shake the feeling that maybe Skye and Tony don’t really like him all that much. Sometimes he can’t help but think that maybe they only hang out with him out of pity and secretly think he’s needy and annoying.

Gym class always makes him want to throw up. He’s always picked last for everything and if his team loses, no matter how much he was actually involved in the game, he’s blamed for the loss. Clay hates gym more than any of his other classes, as he hates feeling like everyone’s eyes are on him whilst he attempts to run the field and participate.

Anything below a perfect score sends waves of nausea and disappointment through Clay’s gut, as he feels as if he may as well have failed and that his parents won’t be satisfied with his performance. 

Being called on in class makes Clay wish that he could just curl into himself and die. He hopes that the day never comes when he answers incorrectly, as he fears that then his classmates will think he’s unintelligent and find more reason to dislike him.

Lunch is a living hell, as he doesn’t have Skye or Tony this year. Clay has taken to running out of his previous class, algebra, as fast as he can so that he can snag a table in the cafeteria before the rest of the middle schoolers who have that lunch period pour in. Sometimes Clay has the table to himself, other times another group will sit around him and talk amongst themselves, ignoring Clay’s presence completely. 

For some reason every feeling of insecurity, fear, and dejection feels magnified these days. Clay isn’t entirely sure when it got this hard, it surely didn’t just happen overnight. He didn’t just wake up on the first day of seventh grade and suddenly feel like he was drowning in an ocean of mismatched thoughts and concerns. Clay has always been fidgety and anxious, always been relatively shy and timid, but now, it almost seems like he can’t handle these emotions. 

It feels like he’s being swallowed down into a pit full of thorns as his own personal Eye of Sauron scorches him alive from the inside out. 

And Clay honestly doesn’t know what to do about it.

“Hey, is something wrong, kiddo?” Matt asks his son as he stands at the kitchen counter, unpackaging the hamburgers, french fries, and oddly moist mini-ketchup packets from the greasy McDonalds bag. “You look like you have something on your mind.”

Clay shakes his head and keeps his eyes glued to the tabletop. He does, in fact, have something on his mind. He has many, many things on his mind. Among these things are the angry way his teammates in gym class looked at him after their loss, Justin Foley laughing under his breath while staring across the classroom at him, and Montgomery shoving him to the ground in the hallway, followed by a chorus of laughter. 

Every evening is like this for Clay anymore. Every aspect of his day replays through his head; every conversation, interaction, and decision. It’s a painstaking process, combing through everything he’s done all day, but it’s impossible for Clay not to do it. His mind automatically rewinds it’s recollection of the day’s events in the evening, and Clay is stuck reliving it all.

“You’re sure nothing’s bothering you? Your mom’s been worried about you, she says you’ve really crawled into your shell these last few months, and I have to agree with her.”

“I’ve just been tired, dad,” Clay mumbles, feeling as if the same excuse has been rolling off his tongue an awful lot anymore. And it’s not false by any means, he is tired, as he’s been having trouble sleeping for awhile now, laying awake at night as his brain races off out of his head.

“Are you having trouble sleeping?” Matt asks, setting a plate of fast food down in front of his son. He meant to make dinner this evening, he swears but….the time got away from him. “If that’s the case, we have some options here, kiddo. You could try going up to bed earlier, or we could start a pre-sleep regiment of some sort, have you drink some tea and have a ‘no technology an hour before bed’ rule.”

Clay shrugs, picking up his burger only to have the odd mass of lettuce slide out from between the buns and onto his plate with a splat. He doesn’t mean to worry his parents, he just doesn’t know what to do with himself or the mountain of emotions that he tries to shove into a corner and forget about.

“I think it’ll be fine, dad,” he says quietly, wincing as he remembers the disdainful look the girl in front of him in English shot him the other day when he’d corrected her answer...she probably hates him now, doesn’t she? She probably thinks he’s nothing but a pompous smart ass. Clay bets that she told all of her friends about the incident already, and now they all probably hate him and have negative preconceptions about him, too. 

“Are you sure nothing’s wrong, Clay?” Matt asks, snapping Clay’s mind back to the kitchen. Matt Jensen admittedly isn’t the most observant parent, he’d never expect a ‘Father of the Year Award’....except maybe in the form of a mug from Hallmark on father's’ day, but it’s apparent that something is bothering his son. His kid’s always been nervous and skittish, but lately such traits have been augmented. 

“Yeah, I’m fine, dad,” Clay says with a jerky nod, wishing he could crawl into himself and disappear under his father’s concerned gaze.

If Lainie were present, she would press her son and make him talk. She would use her lawyer skills at the table, leaning closer and pressuring him to open up but, alas, Lainie is not present. Tonight, like so many other nights, it’s just Matt and his boy, and Matt does not have the parenting skills to navigate such a worrying subject.

So the subject dies and the gourmet meal from Micky D’s is eaten in a stiff silence.  
\---------------------

Tony admittedly doesn’t like algebra.

The fact that there are numbers and letters jumbled together makes an already overly complicated problem basically impossible.

Oh, and the numbers apparently don’t stop at zero anymore either, they go on and on forever as negative integers.

Tony can’t help but wonder who the fuck in their right mind thought all of this up, and he honestly can’t ever see himself applying such formulas in his everyday life...ever. He keeps a cool head about it though, he doesn’t let the bizarre equations frustrate him or string him out. He figures that there’s really no point in getting upset over it...it’s not going to get any easier from here, anyway.

“Psst! Tony, hey! Psst!” 

Tony looks up from his notebook (full of incomplete equations that he gave up on halfway through) and back over his shoulder at the girl seated behind him. She hisses at him through her teeth again to make sure that she has his undivided attention before offering him a folded up piece of leaflet. 

Tony stares at it in confusion for a moment before accepting it and turning back around, not wishing to attract the teacher’s attention. He unfolds it in his lap to see a note addressed to him scribbled down in purple pen:

‘Hey Tony, have you talked to Clay lately? -Skye’

Clay? Tony feels himself flush in worry. He really hasn’t spoken to Clay in a few days now, as they don’t have any classes together this year. He makes an effort to see his best friend though, he’s stopped by his house a few times and he admittedly has noticed that things seem a little off.

A little off with Clay.

A little off with himself.

They were both a little off.

Tony looks across the the classroom to see Skye staring at him. He shakes his head in response and feels himself grow more worried yet as she rips out another piece of paper from her notebook, beginning to jot down another message.

A minute later it’s passed up to Tony.

‘He seems to be really anxious anymore. I know that he’s always a little edgy but, I mean, it’s been really bad since school started up again. He refuses to talk to me about it and I’m really starting to worry about him. It’s taking a physical toll on him; he looks like he isn’t sleeping and he’s skinny as a rail. Try talking to him? Or do you know something that I don’t? I’ve actually been considering telling someone….He’s started saying some pretty weird things lately, too...’

Tony feels his stomach drop and quickly looks back over at Skye, mouthing ‘what weird things is he saying?’. A sense of dread sets in, and Tony wonders if he’s been missing something. Sure, he’s noticed Clay seems run down, but he hadn’t thought it was too concerning….is it? He hasn’t seen the other boy in a few weeks now…

Another note is promptly passed back over to Tony, all of the other teenagers now curious as to the nature of the conversation they’re helping pass along. 

‘Any time I get him to open up about anything, he just says that he wishes he could disappear and that he’s starting to think he can’t do anything right. I understand how he feels, and that’s sort of why I’m worried. Feelings like that really aren’t good, they take you to some pretty dark and fucked up places in your head, and getting away from those shadowy corners is really hard sometimes.’

Tony furrows his eyebrows in concern, his palms beginning to sweat. God, has he overlooked something? Clay seemed a sort of strung out the last time he saw him, but not like he was really getting into something he couldn’t handle. Sure, kids still pick on him, no matter how many times Tony attempts to set the nasty motherfuckers straight, but has something else been going on that he doesn’t know about?

Usually Tony’s the first one to notice that Clay’s off-kilter. Is Clay trying to keep something to himself? One of Skye’s notes said that he’s reluctant to talk about it…

The issue weighs heavily on Tony’s mind for the rest of the school day, as he tries to figure out what’s eating Clay from the inside out. He knows that everyone keeps secrets...hell, Tony’s keeping a pretty huge secret from Clay himself, but it’s only for the sake of their friendship…

What the hell would Clay not want to tell him or Skye? Tony can’t help but automatically begin to assume the worst, as hanging out with the skittish boy for so many years does have some side effects.  
\---------------------

Two days later, on a nippy Friday afternoon, Tony invites Clay over to his house after school. 

Unfortunately, Tony picked an awful afternoon to decide to host his best friend. Javier came home from trade school early with Rosella in tow, and Mateo decided it would be a splendid idea to set off a bottle rocket with Sophia’s bedroom window within the trajectory.

The Padilla household is sheer chaos, to be frank.

Tony and Clay end up taking a walk down to the empty parking lot of a deserted pet store that went under nearly a decade ago. The side of the building is covered in graffiti; names, genitalia, and skulls sprayed over the faded paintings of paw prints and puppies.

It’s truly the voice of a generation.

The two boys end up sitting up on the curb, chewing gum and talking about pleasantly inane things such as school and how much it sucks. Tony’s genuinely missed Clay, they have no classes together this year and rarely cross paths in the hallway.

And after those notes from Skye and some overheard rumors, Tony’s been worried about him.

“Who do you have for math?”

“Mr. Jones. You?”

“Yeah, same. What do you think of him?”

“Total asshole.”

Clay snorts and nods in agreement. “I love the teachers like him who try and act like they’re the cool kids. It’s just funny because they still seem to be stuck back in junior high, trying to relive it but with them at the top of the food chain this time.”

“Maybe that’s why some people become teachers,” Tony suggests with a shrug. “Just to get a do-over, you know?”

“Yeah, maybe. I’d never want to go back to school though. Once I’m out, I’m out, I’m never doing this whole fucking thing over again. I’m not a masochist.”

Tony is admittedly shocked by Clay’s choice of words.

“How’s the year been going for you?” He asks, a feeling of worry starting to set in. “I heard that some of the other guys have been giving you some trouble.”

Clay visibly stiffens, taking a minute to think over his response before opening his mouth. 

“Uh, not really….stuff’s been alright so far. You?”

Tony, reluctant to switch the subject, doesn’t reply the way Clay was hoping he would. 

“You already know how I’m doing. I wanna know what’s been going on with you.”

“Nothing,” Clay says with a shrug, refusing to make eye contact. “Seriously, Tony, nothing’s up.”

“You sure? You don’t look so good.”

“Gee, thanks.”

“No, c’mon, you look like you haven’t been sleeping well and you’ve lost some weight. I’m worried about you. Has anyone pulled anything?”

“People always pull something when they have the chance to,” Clay says, visibly recoiling into himself. “Teenagers suck.”

“Clay…”

“You know, it’s not even so much that teenagers suck anymore. No, I think the problem is now the fact that I suck at life.”

Tony quirks an eyebrow and scoots closer to his friend. “What do you mean you suck at life? You haven’t even gotten to live all that much yet, you’re thirteen!”

“I ruin everything I touch, Tony,” Clay explains. “Every time I so much as dare to try and slide a foot outside of my comfort zone, I end up with broken toes. I’ve figured out that there’s no point in me even trying to act like I’m something I’m not. I never will be someone that’s invisible, you know? And God, I just wish I was….I’m so sick of feeling like everyone’s looking at me, I’m so sick of being seen and called out by people like Bryce and Montgomery. I hate it, Tony, I really hate it. Sometimes I just wish no one could see me, I just wish I could disappear.”

“Wouldn’t that be lonely? Not being seen and being ignored?” Tony asks hoarsely, not at all sure how he’s supposed to fix this.

“It’s better not to be seen at all than to only be seen selectively,” Clay replies. “I’m so fucking sick of people treating me like crap and then acting like I’m not even there the rest of the time. I’m only there when they need someone to make fun of, I’m not there when they’re all sitting around me having a conversation….and it’s my fault. If I were brave, if I could just be normal, maybe I’d talk with them instead of sitting there like an idiot, you know? Maybe I could just sit down next to someone and start having a conversation like a normal person. Maybe I could go home and not spend the rest of the day thinking about everything I did and said and wondering how I came across. It’s not everyone else, it’s just…..it’s just me.”

A heavy silence settles in between them. Tony is at a complete loss for words, the heavy load that was just dropped atop of him crushing his lungs. Clay is silent, the heels of his grass-stained sneakers scraping across the pavement as he fidgets.

“How….how can you think that other people’s shitty behavior is your fault?” He finally asks, staring at Clay in bewilderment. “What the hell do you mean it’s just you?”

Clay hesitates to respond, making the growing sense of panic building up in Tony’s gut intensify. 

“Because….because it is, Tony. It is just me. It’s always been me, no one wants to be around me because I’m the way I am...and I can’t blame them. Sometimes I wonder why the hell you’ve put up with me for so long, to be honest.”

Tony feels his jaw drop. “Are you serious?!” he asks, reaching out and laying a hand on Clay’s shoulder. “C’mon, Clay! You know that you’re my favorite person….I love you. You know that, don’t you?”

“I know and...it makes me feel bad…” Clay admits, shifting uncomfortably under Tony’s touch. “I think that you could probably meet some people who are a lot better than me, Tony. There’s people who like you who are more….I don’t know, normal? Less needy, quiet, and weird? I like you, too, I don’t know what the hell I’d do without you...but I think you’d be off a lot better without me.”

“No, no, no,” Tony insists, shaking his head. “Clay, there’s literally no one else I ever want to replace you. ¡Tú eres mi mejor amigo! ¡Yo te necesito, eres muy importante para mí!”

Clay feels beyond guilty, knowing that Tony really must be scared if he’s babbling at him in Spanish, and he wishes that he’d just kept his goddamn mouth shut. He should know by now that he just needs to shut the hell up and not talk….everything’s so much neater when he does.

“I’m sorry,” he mumbles, finding himself tugging at his jacket sleeves like he tends to when feeling overwhelmed. “Forget it, Tony. I should’ve never started this crap with you…”

“No,” Tony says, shaking his head. “Do you always feel like this? Like...like you don’t deserve anything? Like everything’s your fault and the world hates you?”

Clay winces and shrugs. “I don’t really want to talk about this, just forget I-”

“No, answer me. Do you feel like this a lot?”

“I feel like my mother made a huge mistake by choosing to have me,” Clay admits meekly. “She’s talked about how she was uncertain to whether or not she wanted kids before, and I sometimes think she made the wrong decision. I...I don’t do anything right, I just...I fuck everything up, I make people miserable, I worry people, I don’t give back....Sometimes I think that the people I care about would be better off without me…”

Tony swears that his heart skips a beat. Static noise fills his head as he stares at Clay in deafening silence, feeling like the world just fell away from him and left him floating in orbit without oxygen.

“Don’t fucking say things like that,” he finally chokes out. “I swear to God, Clay Jensen, don’t you dare say shit like that.”

Clay curls further into himself, digging his nails into the flesh of his calves. He wishes he could just turn into ice and melt through the cracks of the pavement….why is he like this? Why can’t he just do anything right?

“Clay, seriously, I need you to look at me and take back what you just said,” Tony says, shaking his head. “If you really feel this way about yourself-”

“Tony, it’s not anything to worry about, okay? It’s fine, just-”

“No, Clay, it’s not okay! I’m worried about you! I’ve BEEN worried about you! It’s going to be okay, I promise, we just need to get you some help. I don’t think I can fix this on my own, but I want to help you, and I will as much as I can. But….this is serious, Clay, we need to tell-”

“No, no,” Clay interrupts, frantically shaking his head. “Tony, no, my parents….I don’t want to scare them…”

“Clay, this is serious, you need help! I’m scared that-”

“No! My mom will lose it and think that she failed as a parent! My dad won’t even know how to handle it! Please, I shouldn’t have told you, I didn’t mean to scare you! Tony, please, just forget I said it!”

“Clay, you need help. I care about you too much to just ignore this!”

“I can handle it! Tony, please, don’t do this! It’ll get better….please? Please, just let it lie?”

Tony is silent for a moment, feeling like he’s been in a similar position before, trying to decide whether or not to listen to Clay’s pleas or get help. 

And then it dawns on him: he has. Back in the fifth grade when the bullying started. Clay had been adamant about not getting any help and instead letting it all blow over.

Nothing’s improved, it seems, even after getting other people involved.

“Are you really sure you can handle this on your own, Clay?” Tony finally asks, side-eyeing his friend with extreme concern. He honestly feels as if he’s just been punched in the gut as he watches his friend curl into himself.

Clay refrains from responding, glassy eyes glued to the pavement. “I’m sorry,” he mumbles, a few warm tears sliding down his cheeks.

And, God fucking damn it, he really means it. He is sorry...for everything. 

Tony doesn’t know what to do, not sure how to process everything that was just laid out for him. These feelings that Clay’s experiencing are scary as hell, and as for how this delicate situation should be handled...well, Tony’s at a complete loss. 

“It’s going to be alright,” he says quietly, daring to wrap an arm around his friend’s boney shoulders and pull him close. He wishes more than anything that he could make Clay stop hurting, he wishes that he could transfer the other boy’s degrading thoughts into his own head, just to know exactly what they’re up against here.

“Everything’s going to be okay, I promise.”

Clay shifts against Tony’s side, allowing himself to be pulled into a gentle hug. 

God, he hates himself. Of course, he just had to open his fucking mouth and get Tony all worked up. He just had to be a burden again, like he always is. Why can’t he ever give instead of take? Why does he have to be such a draining force?

“I’m sorry,” Clay apologizes again, trying to relax as he feels Tony’s hands run up and down his goose-bump riddled arms. “I’m so sorry…”

“Don’t be,” Tony mumbles, holding his friend close, trying not to feel as if the scrawnier boy is currently slipping through his fingers like sand. “You didn’t do anything wrong...it’s going to be okay.”

Clay doesn’t deny it or agree, he just sniffles into Tony’s shoulder and hugs him back, feeling guilty as he tries to seek comfort in someone he knows truly has his best intentions in mind. Clay doesn’t really know what’s wrong with him, he just knows that Tony wants to help him fix it...because that’s what Tony has always done for him. He makes sure that he’s functioning and together. 

And it just makes Clay hate himself all the more.  
\---------------------

“No fucking way! You’re kidding, right?” Justin whispers excitedly, leaning across the library table to stare at Marcus in awe. “There’s no way! A girl like Samantha would never….just, no fucking way!”

Marcus, looking proud and dignified as a Roman Senator, simply smiles and shakes his head. “I wouldn’t lie about that, Justin. No, actually, it was her idea.”

Justin’s smile widens, looking both envious and excited. He’s never had a girl let him cup her breast, so he’s fully expecting Marcus to spill the beans on this one. 

Did she keep her bra on?

If not, what color were her nipples? Were they hard?

Was it soft?

Did he squeeze it or just hold it in his palm?

The world may cease to turn if such details are not released to the seventh grade population.

Tony sits across the library, completely uninterested in their conversation. Once again, he doesn’t quite grasp other boy’s fascination in breasts. He’s tried to comprehend it before, especially when Clay took an interest in them, but he’s still in the dark. Such disinterest leads Tony to focusing in on his English assignment, ignoring the conversation whilst many of the other boys nearby begin to gather around Marcus and listen with keen interest.

Maybe if Marcus were explaining how to make your best friend feel important and wanted, Tony would be right there in the crowd.

It’s been several days since Tony learnt of Clay’s overwhelming feeling of uselessness and imperfection, and he still is torn on what course of action should be taken. He has a feeling that Clay really does need help, because it sounded like he really is tearing himself apart from the inside out but….Tony doesn’t know how anyone is supposed to reverse such degrading thinking.

It seems nearly impossible, in all honesty. How does someone completely turn someone else’s self image around? How does someone make another person feel like they matter in the grand scheme of the vast and chaotic universe?

Now, if Tony were more selfish, and much more ballsy than he ever dare try to be, he would’ve kissed his friend back on that curb. 

He would’ve cupped his face and done it the way he’s seen his mama and his papa kiss, and he would’ve told Clay just how goddamn much he means to him.

He would’ve told Clay just how much he loves him.

Tony would’ve told him every single thing that he likes about him, from his shy smile to his intelligence. Tony would’ve told the Clay how he makes his palms sweat and his chest tighten. He would’ve told Clay that he’s given him some of the best memories that he has.

He would’ve made Clay love himself as much as Tony loves him….but Tony didn’t have the nerve.

He still doesn’t.

“Hey!” Bryce shouts as he strides into the library, causing the crowd around Marcus to go silent and the little, old librarian to sternly shush him. “What’s up with the get-together?”

“Marcus touched Samantha Redding’s boobs!” Justin hisses excitedly, as if he himself was the one to do such a manly thing. “Tell him, Marcus!”

Marcus, more than happy to repeat his story of conquest and further impress his peers, nods, opening his mouth to talk.

Bryce interrupts him before he can so much as utter a word.

“No way, I’m not buying it. Anyway, even if you did manage to get to second base with Samantha Redding, she’s easy. Loads of guys have touched her boobs!”

Marcus deflates on the spot, shifting uncomfortably in his seat. “What the hell do you mean? I’ve never heard another guy talk about-”

“I have,” Bryce claims with a prideful smile. “Any guy who’s not a pussy’s touched Samantha’s boobs!”

After this proclamation is uttered from the mouth of the seventh grade god himself, several other boys huddled around the table begin to slowly nod and claim that they, too, have laid hands on Samantha Redding’s chest….even if they’ve never really met her.

“I’ve got big news for you,” Bryce says after a moment of basking in the limelight he stole, more than ready to completely steal the show. “You know Schizoid?”

“Clay Jensen? Yeah, what about him?”

“Monty and I just gave him a motherfucking swirly.”

Murmurs of newfound excitement and approval arise from the crowd.

Tony nearly drops his book and feels like he might throw up.

“You shoved Jensen’s head in a toilet?” Marcus asks with an eye roll, clearly still upset about having his moment to be the envied one stolen. “Seriously?”

Bryce nods, grin widening. “Yeah, Monty and I cornered him in the restroom, we dragged him into a stall, held him down, and shoved it in. It was dumb luck, really. Schizoid was just using a hall pass, and we happened to be wasting time in the bathroom he chose to stumble into.”

Tony feels his heart leap into his throat as he jumps to his feet, leaving his backpack and copy of ‘To Kill a Mockingbird’ abandoned at his table. He takes off, rushing out of the room at a pace that would give Usain Bolt a run for his money.

Those little bastards! Why the hell would they even….who does a thing like...why?! Tony typically has trouble relating to his classmates, but shit like this? He doesn’t even understand how shoving someone’s head into a toilet is even remotely funny.

Clay was right the first time, Tony thinks with anger, teenagers do suck. Horribly.

“Clay?” Tony calls as he hurries into the nearest restroom, only to find it empty. 

Where would Clay go after being humiliated in such a way? Surely he wouldn’t go back to class….he must’ve gone somewhere to hide. Somewhere where he can be invisible, unseen by their peers.

Such a place quickly pops into Tony’s head, and he takes off for the football field outside of the cafeteria. 

He finds Clay huddled underneath the bleachers, knees pulled up to his chest and curled into himself. His hair and face are soaking wet, droplets of toilet water running down his flushed neck and dampening his shirt and back. 

Tony doesn’t say anything, he just gets down onto his haunches and shuffles underneath the bleachers.

They sit in silence for a solid five minutes, neither of them knowing what to say.

“I’m going to kick his ass,” Tony finally mutters. “I’m gonna give him a black eye and knock out some teeth.”

Clay shakes his head nervously, but doesn’t say anything, clearly too upset to talk without sobbing. He doesn’t want Tony to get in trouble for him...again.

After a few more moments of stiff silence, the two boys walk back to the school building. They head straight to the gym locker room, where Tony helps Clay dry off with paper towels and gives him the shirt off of his own back, simply zipping up his jacket to stay decent.

Tony encourages Clay to go to the nurse’s office and fake a migraine so that he can go home and be done with the day. 

He then returns to the library to see that Bryce is still bragging about his and Montgomery’s accomplishment to his adoring fan boys. 

Tony cuts him off mid-sentence by marching right up to him and landing a punch square in the mouth.

He then escorts himself to the principal’s office before anyone can react.  
\---------------------

“Make sure you tell the father what you did at school yesterday!” Mrs. Padilla hisses to her youngest child as they stand in line for confession. “Make sure he knows that you’ve gotten yourself suspended from school for the next week and a half!”

“Yes, mama,” Tony mumbles with a soft sigh, uncomfortably shifting his weight from foot to foot. 

He’s very well aware that his mama is unhappy with him...and he is also very well aware that she has every right to be. After Tony decked Bryce Walker, she was almost immediately called to the school. A meeting with the principal ensued and lasted for nearly two hours, ending with Tony being suspended for a week and a half due to this having had been the second physical altercation he has caused during his school career.

The Padilla household is currently divided over how to react to Tony’s outburst. Mrs. Padilla and Sophia are angry, insisting that he not use violence to communicate his thoughts and feelings...even in Clay’s defense. They’re not so much upset with what he did, except that his suspensions go on his permanent record, and if he decides to bruise Walker up again….he could face expulsion.

Javier, Mateo, and Dante are proud of their little brother, saying that Tony did what he had to do. Friends look after friends, and if any of them had been in a similar situation, they would’ve done the same without hesitation. All three boys even offered to pitch in to really ensure that this Walker kid and his cronies know that Clay is off limits….their mama looked like she might stroke out when she overheard this, and when Tony called Clay to offer him his brothers’ services, he quickly declined.

Mr. Padilla’s only reaction to Tony’s suspension was to shake his head and warn his son that if he ever started fighting in school again, there would be consequences.

Tony doesn’t doubt his papa.

“When I come out, I’m going to go sit and say my prayers of penance in the back pew,” Mrs. Padilla whispers, pointing towards the statue of the virgin Mary. “I want you to join me after you’re done, we’ll wait there for your brothers and sister.”

Tony nods before watching his mama disappear into the confessional, gripping at the crucifix around her neck. 

She always takes at least twenty minutes to confess to her sins and receive forgiveness. 

It honestly makes all of her children wonder what the hell she does. 

“My God, I am sorry for my sins with all my heart. In choosing to do wrong and failing to do good, I have sinned against you, whom I should love above all things,” Tony mumbles under his breath, reciting the act of contrition before it’s his turn to sit in the hot seat before the priest and fess up. He has a nasty habit of forgetting the prayer last minute every single time his mama takes him to confession, and it embarrasses him, even if the priests are kind and help him along.

Mrs. Padilla exits the confessional after nearly fifteen minutes, smiling contently as if everything troublesome weighing on her mind has been lifted away by the priest. She affectionately squeezes her son’s shoulder as she walks by, seemingly forgetting her anger towards him for the moment. 

She always seems happier after confession, less stressed and worrisome.

Tony wishes confession had that relieving effect on him, too, but it never does. He hopes that maybe this time it’ll be different.

Maybe this time will be different and the priest will give him peace of mind.  
\---------------------

Mrs. Padilla is still on her post-confession cloud nine after they arrive back home. Even when Javier and Dante started to fight about what radio station they were to listen to in the car, she remained calm and simply chose the station herself, raising the volume until it drowned out her boys’ bickering.

Tony’s really hoping that his siblings don’t push their mama’s good mood though, as this is the longest stretch he’s had so far without her reminding him of his suspension. But even if his mama does suddenly lose her sense of serenity and purity from being forgiven by the lord, Tony knows that he’ll still feel relieved himself.

His short four minute chat with Father Michael was immensely helpful...in more than one way.

Tony had told the priest of his suspension and why he’d lashed out the way he did...and he mentioned that he's worried that maybe he loves his friend more than he probably should.

The priest smiled understandingly, and informed Tony that sometimes it’s hard, but one must always look out for their fellow man, and advised Tony to do what he knows is right. 

He also told Tony, much to the boy’s surprise, that it’s impossible to love one’s friend too much, and that having much love in his heart for a friend was not a sin, but a blessing. 

Such a statement from a man of God gives Tony a strange sense of security that he’s been missing for the last couple of months….it allows him to accept what he’s been theorizing for a few months now, and without any self doubt.

The priest also gave Tony the last little shove he needed in order to finally find his nerve again.

And it’s that rediscovered nerve that has Tony headed straight for the phone hung up on the kitchen wall after he walks in the front door. 

It’s that nerve that has him punch in the Jensen’s home phone number without a second thought and keeps him on the line until someone picks up.

“Hello?”

Tony sighs out in relief, happy to hear Mrs. Jensen’s voice instead of Clay’s. 

“Hello, Mrs. Jensen. This is Tony Padilla.”

“Oh, hello, Tony! Would you like to talk to Clay?”

“Actually, I really need to talk to you, Mrs. Jensen.”

“Oh, uh….alright. Is everything okay between you and Clay?”

“Yes, I’m not calling about anything between me and Clay, I’m calling because I’ve been really worried about your son,” Tony says, his heart pounding in his throat as he closes his eyes, swearing that he feels tears threatening to form.

Lainie is silent for a moment, warning bells blaring in her head and giving her the start of an anxiety-triggered migraine. She, too, has noticed that her son seems to have fallen into some sort of slump that she can’t pull him out of, and if Clay’s friend has noticed these changes in his behavior as well...

“What are you worried about, Tony?” Lainie asks. 

She begins drumming her nails off of the kitchen countertop, trying keep herself from reaching into her purse to retrieve the box of Marlboros she just knew she’d regret buying…  
\---------------------

Tony’s fateful phone call with Mrs. Jensen lasts for about an hour. He tells her everything as he did the priest earlier, even including his recent suspension due to punching Bryce Walker right in the jaw.

And Lainie listens intently to all of it. 

She ends up on the front porch, smoking two cigarettes by the time the conversation ends. She thanks Tony for calling her and letting her know about everything, saying the she knows how hard this must’ve been for him to do. After hanging up, she cries into her hands for twenty minutes, as her fears have just been confirmed. 

Clay’s world is turned on it’s head the next morning. 

Instead of being shipped off to school, his mother insists on keeping him home, despite him not being sick or even feigning ailment. She hovers like a UFO and speaks to him softly, so softly that it’s as if she’s trying not to wake someone. She seats him down next to her on the couch and fidgets the way Clay tends to do when he’s upset. 

They watch ‘Return of the Jedi’, and Lainie makes waffles...real ones that come from the griddle instead of the freezer. 

She doesn’t seem to be in any hurry to get to work.

The whole situation gets even freakier when Clay notices that his mom is stiffly sniffling as if on the verge of tears. She pulls her son into a tight side hug and kisses him on the forehead. 

And then the bomb is dropped, and it is not at all a subtle blast. 

Lainie tells Clay about the phone call from Tony, and about her own fears over his recent skyrocketing anxiety. She admits that this new insight to his thoughts about himself has her very upset, and she informs her son that she’s going to get him help.

This help comes about a week later in the form of forty milligrams of Prozac to be taken every morning, prescribed by the mental health physician at the pediatrician’s office.

There is no talk of innermost thoughts and feelings.

There is no heart-to-heart between Clay and one of his parents about self-worth and confidence.

There is no further talk of the problematic shadows cast over Clay’s brain, as now he has the little, white capsules to fix it all. As long as he stays on track with his meds, Lainie sees no need to further discuss such uncomfortable matters, and Matt doesn’t even know how to approach such a subject, so he doesn’t dare.

It’s alright though, Clay thinks to himself as the pills lump up in his throat and choke him, it wouldn’t be normal for either of his parents to take him by the hand and walk him through something. 

Work and medicine are what Jensens thrive off of, not emotions and a feeling of intimacy.  
\---------------------

Tony spots Clay sitting by himself in the library on his first day back from his suspension. He approaches apprehensively, stomach churning with unease as he’s not sure exactly where he and Clay stand.

They haven’t spoken since the suspension.

“Are you mad at me?” Tony asks softly, glancing over at his hopefully-still-friend and pulling out a chair for himself. He hesitates to sit though, making sure that he is welcomed to do so.

There’s a slight pause.

“No,” Clay finally mutters with a shake of his head, staring down at his open notebook to avoid eye contact. “I’m not mad at you.”

“If you are, it’s okay. I understand, but I need you to understand why I did what I did.”

“I do understand. I...I was kind of mad at first but...I totally understand why you called my mom. If the roles were reversed, I would’ve done the same.”

Tony smiles faintly, feeling like his mama does after confession knowing that Clay is getting help and that they’re still friends. 

“You didn’t have to go and get yourself suspended, though…” Clay adds after a moment, cracking a faint grin. 

“I think I did. If Bryce thinks that he can shove your head in a toilet without any repercussions, someone’s gotta set the asshole straight,” Tony replies, plopping down in the chair he pulled out. “If no one else is going to step up, I sure as hell am.”

Clay flushes and shakes his head. “You need to stop stepping up, Tony. You could get yourself expelled if you keep picking fights…”

“Don’t worry about it...if you can,” Tony replies, wincing in fear that his words were insensitive given the current situation. Clay doesn’t seem perturbed though, so he quickly manages to relax.

“I can,” Clay mumbles softly. He suddenly looks up, attempting to look his friend in the eyes, but he can’t do it. Instead his eyes focus on Tony’s nose.

It’s just easier this way.

“I have to take Prozac now,” he admits quietly. “I’m only telling you this so that you know your call had some effect….and because I just...I guess I want to let you know.”

“Do you feel like it’s helping?” Tony asks gently, trying to hold the delicate information just disclosed to him in such a manner that it’s not bruised.

Clay shrugs, feeling the shy smile on his face widen when Tony places a warm, sure hand on his shoulder. “I can’t tell yet….the doctor said it might take a couple of weeks for me to notice any difference. I’m not….I’m not too keen on the pills though, you know? I don’t like the fact that I’m on meds, it...it bothers me.”

“Don’t let it bother you. For what it’s worth, it doesn’t bother me.”

Clay sighs out through his nose nose and lets Tony envelope him in a hug. 

Clay admittedly needs Tony.

Tony’s his rock, his source of comfort and security.

And Tony needs Clay. He really does….and if he had the nerve and a sense of fearlessness that’s often associated with stupidity, he’d kiss Clay to show him just how much he needs him.

But Tony doesn’t have that nerve.

He doubts that he ever will.


	6. Fourteen

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hey everyone, yes, I'm alive XD As usual, feel free to leave your thoughts and feelings in the comments

Clay worries that Tony might perish at the hands of some merciless and incurable plague when they’re fourteen.

It’s not exactly unheard of for Tony to play hookey and miss a few days of school now and again. Hell, there’s even been a few instances when he’s ditched an entire week for no apparent reason other than an intense loathing for the public education system. It’s almost a Padilla family gene to view school attendance as a personal decision, as Tony’s brothers have all had their fair share of extended absences without excuse themselves. 

But still, Clay can’t help but think that something’s seriously wrong when he glances across the room in the middle of civics to see that Tony is absent again for the fourth day in a row. Usually if Tony’s planning a mini-vacation on his sofa, he’ll give Clay a heads up, but Clay hasn’t heard from the other boy since last week.

Naturally, Clay Jensen begins worrying. 

“I’m sure he’s fine,” Skye says breezily with a shrug when Clay voices his concerns to her. “He’s probably just at home playing Xbox and looking at car magazines, you know, doing Tony things.”

“Yeah, but he usually tells me before ditching,” Clay mumbles anxiously as he and Skye continue to aimlessly walk the perimeter of the gym, not wishing to be yelled at by their hard-core teacher for ‘not being active’. 

“Okay, look, I love you, Clay, but it is my civic duty to tell you when you’re being a dweeb,” Skye teases with a fond smirk.

“I’m being a dweeb?”

“Big time, bud. Look, you sound like a needy girlfriend, okay? He probably just forgot to give you a call or maybe he figured you wouldn’t care if he took a few mental health days.”

“He’s been gone all week…”

“He’ll probably show up tomorrow. Most kids who ditch for a week come back on Friday to collect the work they missed and make it up over the weekend.”

“What if he doesn’t show up tomorrow?” Clay challenges softly, barely ducking in time to avoid being pegged in the head by a rouge basketball.

“Then...he doesn’t come tomorrow,” Skye says in her ‘well, duh’ voice. “Don’t worry about him, I’m sure he’s fine, alright?”

Clay huffs to himself and begrudgingly nods, still unable to relax. However, his worries abruptly shift from Tony’s well being to his own when the gym teacher throws a disapproving glance his way, blowing into his whistle with the force of a ground shattering earthquake.

Skye doesn’t hesitate to grab her friend’s wrist and tug him along as she begins to pick up the pace and jog, waiting for the coach to look away before slowing down.  
\--------------------------------

The second Skye steps out of the girls’ locker room Friday afternoon and spots Clay, she already knows what he’s going to say the second he approaches her.

She’s proven correct approximately eight seconds later when Jensen catches up to her on the basketball court.

“He’s not here today.”

Skye sighs and pulls a face of mock surprise. “No, really? I had no idea, I thought Tony might’ve just decided to wear his invisibility suit to school today.”

Clay, looking none too amused, crosses his arms over his chest defensively. “Wow, where’d he get one of those?”

“Hot Topic,” Skye mumbles with a snort, giving her friend a little shove in the hopes of helping him perk up a little. She gets that Clay’s worried about Tony and all, but this behavior is a little weird, even for him. She can’t help but shake the feeling that there’s more going on here that isn’t being shared with her.

Clay still seems pretty fucking down though, even after Skye reassures him that Tony’s probably still alive and tries to joke around with him, tries to make him smile. It’s all weird, because usually if Tony misses Clay doesn’t seem all the perturbed, but for some reason Padilla’s absence really has a bug up Jensen’s ass this time.

“Hey, are you feeling alright?” Skye finally asks after yet another one of her jokes falls flat. “You seem kind of tired.”

“Me?” Clay asks, as if there could possibly be anyone else that Skye’s asking at the moment. “Oh, yeah, I’m fine.”

“You sure?”

“Yeah.”

Feeling defeated now herself, and admittedly a little offended that her friend is clearly keeping something from her, Skye throws in the towel. If Clay wants to be sulky and sad, so be it. She gets it, sometimes she feels miserable, too, and doesn’t want to rope other people into it. 

Whatever.

“Aren’t you good at basketball?” Clay asks after a few seconds of awkward silence, motioning over towards the intense game commencing in the middle of the gym. “You told me once that you used to play REC, right?”

Skye is very well aware that this is an abrupt change in conversation, but she lets it go. It’s kind of nice that Clay’s engaging her and she’s not just talking to herself now.

“Yeah, I did. It was pretty fun, I guess.”

“Why don’t you join in then? The coach would stop kicking your ass to participate if you played a game or two with everyone else, and people would actually, like, want you on their team, Skye.”

“I’d rather walk around with you, you big fucking loser,” Skye mumbles with a soft smile, self consciously tugging at the sleeves of her Adidas hoodie. “I liked playing basketball with the REC team because it was a bunch of people that I don’t see every day at school. It was a group of people that I didn’t see enough to hate, you know?”

Clay is unable to hide his smile. “Yeah….hey, uh, can I ask a question that might seem...dweebish?”

“Go for it,” Skye replies with a chuckle. 

“Do you ever get scared that people are, like, slipping away from you? Like you’re slowly losing them, but you can’t really do anything about it without scaring them away?”

Skye is caught off guard by this, having had expected Clay to ask her about something involving Harry Potter or Star Trek. 

It takes her a minute to formulate an answer.

“I mean, yeah, I think we all go through that at one point or another. Do you feel like you’re drifting away from someone?”

Clay sighs out through his nose and shrugs. “I don’t know. I might just be projecting.”

That’s all Skye needs to hear to understand exactly what the hell is going on here. Clay Jensen is terrified that he and Tony are slipping away from one another, and honestly, Skye would be lying if she didn’t agree. It’s not that Tony and Clay don’t still love each other or make an effort to see one another, it’s just that….they seem to be falling into two very different crowds.

Clay takes a few honors classes now. Not enough to be with the brainiacs, but enough to be considered nerdy. He’s a literature geek and french language fanatic, studying both beyond what is mandatory for school.

Tony doesn’t take any honors classes and has flunking grades due to his lack of effort in any class besides gym. 

Clay doesn’t belong to any group per-say, but he’ll shyly engage with anyone who engages with him, whether it be another outsider like Skye, a theatre groupie, or a try hard, straight A student.

Tony also doesn’t particularly belong to any social group, but he keeps completely to himself most of the time. If anything, he’s his own clique within himself, intimidating the masses and keeping them at bay.

Clay stays far, far away from parties, marijuana, sex, and alcohol.

Tony gladly partakes in parties, marijuana, sex, and alcohol, albeit he’s no stoner and has his limits.

The two are just...going in different directions, which can be pretty fucking painful. Tony almost always lets Clay know when he’s going to be out for more than a day, so this unexplained absence...it has Clay scared that perhaps the end is nigh.

“We’re not drifting if that’s what you’re worried about, Clay,” Skye says softly, trying her best to assure him that he’s not being abandoned. 

She has a feeling that it doesn’t work.  
\----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

The nest of sweaty sheets that have kept Tony cocooned and swaddled this last week are starting to feel confining and almost straight jacket-like. 

He really fucking hates being sick like this, but he assumes that’s a given. Only people with munchausen really enjoy being ill, but even then it’s for the attention, not the actual feelings of nausea and chills. 

Tony’s fed up with his daily diet of saltine crackers and broth, wishing he could keep food down just long enough to eat something with a little flavor.

If the Weight Watchers on crack wasn’t enough to drive him nuts there’s all of the awful mid-morning telenovelas that his mama insists on watching. Tony’s ashamed to admit it, but he now possess extensive knowledge about the dramatic and rocky marriages between beautiful young women and alcoholic, snobbish lawyers.

It’s all very sad, and Tony can just see himself featured in one of those charity commercials: ‘For just pennies a day, you can help poor mono-stricken Tony Padilla find something better to watch on TV, and help him save up for a pizza he’s sure to puke back up. If you donate today, you’ll receive one of the ailing boy’s sweaty sheets and a picture of the poor soul. Please, don’t hesitate to call. Every minute you wait, Padilla has to watch another episode of ‘Eva Luna’. Don’t wait, call now.’

“Te ves horrible,” Dante quips as he enters his and Tony’s shared bedroom to retrieve his secret hoard of spray paint from underneath his bed.

If Tony didn’t agree with his older brother, he’d say something snarky back, but alas, Tony does full heartedly agree. It’s no secret, pale skin, shaky limbs, mussed up hair...he does indeed look horrible. 

“Me gustaría poder quedarme en la cama todo el día,” Dante continues unsympathetically as he sorts through the assortment of cans, looking for the red. His current personal ‘art project’ involves making sure that no one at the high school ever forgets his name. “Odio la maldita escuela.” 

Tony rolls his eyes, as he would gladly switch places with his brother. Math class and annoying assholes have absolutely nothing on mono. And speaking of school….Tony can’t even imagine how much make-up work he’s going to have once he finally feels good enough to go back. He can already see himself sitting at the kitchen table at an ungodly hour, slaving away over study packets and overdue homework.

Great.

“Tony!” His mama screams from downstairs, refusing to come up in order to talk to him at an appropriate volume. “Your friend Clay is on the phone! Pick up the extension in my bedroom.”

Tony blinks groggily, somewhat surprised. It’s not like he forgot Clay, how the hell could he, but….he hadn’t expected his friend to call. 

“Tony!”

“Yes, mama!” Tony replies, huddling himself up in one of his many sheets before making the journey down the hallway to his parents’ bedroom.

He all but collapses onto their queen sized bed once he’s retrieved the phone. 

“Hello?”

“Hey, Tony. I, uh, I just wanted to check in on you since I haven’t seen you all week. Your mom says your sick?”

“Oh, hey, Clay. Yeah, I am pretty sick right now. I’ve got mono, so I’ve basically just been….dying.”

Clay snorts softly, bringing a weak smile to Tony’s chapped lips. “Dying, huh? Wouldn’t it be kind of nice for you to let me know that you’re getting ready to kick the bucket.”

“Sorry, man, I’ve just been feeling really shitty lately, you know?”

“Yeah, yeah, I get it. So, uh...are you going to be back on Monday?”

“I don’t think so, I still feel pretty horrible and I’m a week in now, so...I hope so though. I’m really sick of being sick.”

“If you aren’t back do you want me to pick up all of your work for you so you don’t fall too far behind?” Clay offers, knowing from experience that even missing one day results in hours of makeup work. 

“Yeah, that’d be really nice, Clay. Thanks.”

“No problem, man, just focus on getting better. If you’re not back at school on Monday I’ll go to each of your classes to collect your work and then stop by your house after school?”

“Sounds good,” Tony replies through a yawn, curling up among his mother’s pillows and allowing his eyes to close. He doesn’t think he’ll make it back to his bedroom in this fatigued state. “Thanks again, Clay…”

“I hope you feel better soon. See you Monday, okay?”

“Mmmhmm,” Tony mumbles, already beginning to doze off. “See you then.”

“Alright. Get some rest, Tony.”  
\----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

Come Monday Tony is still absent from school, so Clay makes his rounds and collects all of his friend’s work. It’s quite a lot, honestly….each teacher Clay visits plops a decently weighted folder into his arms that’s full of papers and topped off with a get well post-it note. Tony’s really going to need to book it if he plans on finishing at least half of it before coming back.

Clay feels a little bad just dropping off all of this work for his friend, knowing that he’s already feeling like shit and is going to have a hell of a time trying to learn. Maybe Tony will let him help? Just a little? 

“Hey, dad!” Clay calls after getting home from school, Tony’s folders of doom tucked under his arm. “I need a ride!”

“You just got in, buddy!” Matt replies from within his office, confusion audible in his voice. “Why don’t you settle in first and then we’ll talk, alright?”

Clay, perfectly aware that this is just an excuse so that his old man can finish whatever it is he’s working on, sits down at the kitchen table and starts sorting through all of the papers within Tony’s to-do-work, organizing it by subject.

The easiest things are all of the grammar worksheets...at least in Clay’s opinion those are the easiest, who knows if Tony’s any good with English. The hardest, once again in Clay’s opinion, are all of the math sheets. Clay isn’t all that confident in his mathematical skills, so he’s a little wary about lending Tony a hand when it comes to the algebra, but as far as the English, history, and biology, he thinks he’s got it covered.

“What were you saying about needing a ride?” Matt asks as he ambles into the kitchen, eyeing up the stacks of papers on the kitchen table with suspicion. 

“Yeah, can you drive me over to Tony’s house? He’s been absent from school all week and I have all of his work here for him.”

Matt nods and rubs at his tired eyes. “Sure thing, just give me a few minutes, alright? How long do you think you’ll need?”

“An hour and a half?” Clay suggests, taking his father’s blank face as a green light for the operation to commence. “Is that okay?”

“Yeah, that’s fine, buddy.”

Clay nods and mumbles his gratitude before running upstairs to his bedroom. He feels that he needs to do a little research before entering close quarters with a seriously ill person, not wanting to get sick himself. His dad has some of those face masks stored in the garage from when he painted the house, maybe Clay can take one of those with him? The rubber dishwashing gloves might come in handy, too…

Clay opens up his laptop and quickly exits out of all of his windows (many of which are from porn sites, much to Clay’s mixed excitement and shame). Opening up a new tab, Clay googles the mysterious and elusive illness that is mono in hopes of learning how he can protect himself from the bug. 

Turns out the Clay probably doesn’t need a mask and gloves to keep himself healthy, as mono is only spread through the sharing of saliva. However, the symptoms to the sickness sound awful; fatigue, nausea, chills, body aches...Tony’s probably pretty fucking miserable.

Now feeling like a professional doctor with his degree from Google, Clay decides to quickly throw together a care package to take with him. A package of lozenges, several bottles of electrolyte replenishing Gatorade, and a few fairly new comics that Clay is certain Tony doesn’t own are slipped into the backpack along with all of Tony’s school work.

Clay smiles to himself as he waits for his dad to finish up his mid afternoon snack of Cheetos, mind running through how he wants this visit to go. Clay honestly can’t help but feel that Tony’s slowly but surely slipping away from him, as selfish and needy as that sounds. Maybe if they just spend some time together like the good, old days stuff will go back to normal.

Clay sure hopes so anyway.  
\--------------------------------------------------------------------

“Hello, Clay!” Mrs. Padilla beams excitedly, scooping the kid up into her arms as if he’s her own. “How are you doing honey?”

“Oh, uh, I’m good, Mrs. Padilla. How are you?” Clay asks, cheeks aflame as his friend’s mom gives him a squeeze and all but carries him into the house. 

“I’m good, too, very good….can I get you anything to eat? I just made shrimp and garlic tamales last night that you’re more than welcome to help yourself to, and I believe that some of my jam cookies survived the raid of my sons.”

“Oh, no thank you!” Clay says, blush deepening as Mrs. Padilla leads him into the kitchen and pulls out a seat for him. “I’m not hungry.”

“But you’re so skinny!” Mrs. Padilla laments with a shake of her head, already opening up the fridge and rifling around. “I need to get some meat onto those bones!”

“It’s okay, Mrs. Padilla, but thank you,” Clay mumbles shyly, trying to sneak out of the kitchen unnoticed.

His plan is thwarted when Sophia comes in and begins to shriek.

“Clay! It’s been forever!” She cries happily, wrapping her little brother’s friend up in a hug and holding him close. “How have you been?!”

“H-hi, Sophia,” Clay mumbles, trying his best to keep his face out of the young woman’s chest. “I-I’m good, how’re you?”

“I’m good, too, better now that you’re here,” Sophia coos, dragging Clay back over to the kitchen table. “I feel like I haven’t seen you in years! What’ve you been up to lately?”

“Uh, you know, the usual stuff...devising my plan to take over the world.”

Sophia grins wickedly and giggles, waggling a finger in mock admonishment. “Don’t you dare, Clay! Your plans are not going to foil MY beautiful plans for world domination.”

“No one’s taking over the world on my watch,” Mrs. Padilla replies with a huff as she hurries back over to the kitchen table with a plate of tamales. “Besides, no one can become a powerful tyrant on an empty stomach, yes?”

Clay, now realizing that he has no out here, awkwardly thanks Mrs. Padilla for her hospitality and begins to eat, feeling guilty and embarrassed that Tony’s mama feels the need to try and feed him every time he comes over.

“I just finished vocational school recently,” Sophia starts with a proud smile. “I already have a job interview set up for next weekend.”

“What field are you going into?”

“I’m going to be a legal secretary for the local probation center,” Sophia explains. “I’ll keep track of all of the offending profiles and type up the release and term documents. I studied throughout the summer to graduate earlier.”

“Congratulations,” Clay says with a smile. “So...you’ve been busy.”

“Very. You must be busy, too, though, huh? I haven’t seen you since...geez, last year?” Sophia muses, snatching a tamale off of Clay’s plate and earning herself a disapproving glare from her mother.

“Uh, yeah,” Clay mutters, feeling his stomach drop. “Not as busy as you though. You’re like...Superwoman.”

Sophia seems to like this title, grinning despite herself and nodding in agreement. “You bet. Summer courses to attend, exams to study for, and shifts at Bed Bath and Beyond…”

Mrs. Padilla snorts and shakes her head. “That’s nothing, chica. Wait until you have five children to keep in line, a house to keep clean, and a meal to put on the table every night!”

“Oh, mama…” Sophia mumbles, burying her face in her hands. 

Mrs. Padilla simply huffs in reply, and Clay helplessly wonders what exactly he just set into motion.  
\----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

After half an hour of chatting with Mrs. Padilla and Sophia (both of which are more than happy to make small talk and fawn over him, no matter how red his face becomes), Clay is finally released to go upstairs and see Tony.

The sick boy is curled up in bed, half awake and looking drowsy as a drunk. Clay awkwardly clears his throat and watches as Tony’s half-lidded, hazy eyes look him over in confusion, almost like he can’t believe that his friend is really standing in his bedroom doorway.

“Clay?”

“Hey, Tony,” Clay greets quietly, shuffling into the bedroom and settling himself gently onto the edge of Tony’s bed. “I brought you all of your school work.”

Tony slowly sits up and leans back against his nest of pillows, groaning when he lays eyes on the hefty folder of papers with his name on them.

“All of that?”

“Yep,” Clay mumbles, popping the ‘p’ and letting out a sigh. “All of this...I’m more than willing to help you out, though.”

Tony snorts and shakes his head. “I don’t want you getting sick because you’re hanging around me. I don’t think math is worth feeling like shit over, you know?”

“I won’t get sick, mono’s spread through saliva, so unless I drink out of a cup that you did or you feel the need to french me, I think we’re good.”

Tony laughs weakly and nods, watching his friend open up the folder and begin to sift through the stack of papers. “Alright then, I’ll try my best not to shove my tongue down your throat.”

Clay flushes and chuckles, shifting around to face Tony and present him with a history packet in need of being filled out. “Are you feeling well enough to listen to me drone on about the Alamo? I’ll even fill out the packet for you.”

“Go for it,” Tony replies, lips stretching into a smile when his friend fishes a bottle of sugary Gatorade out of his backpack for him to cradle while he begins to babble on about mass death and the Texan rebellion.  
\-----------------------------------------------------------  
Clay and Tony’s after school study sessions continue for the rest of the week and the two of them quickly fall into a routine.

Clay shows up about an hour after school lets out, bringing Gatorade and sharpened pencils along with him. Mrs. Padilla feeds him homemade dishes and love, seemingly making up for the lack Clay receives at home, before allowing him upstairs to see Tony.

Tony wakes up when his friend comes in, they sleepily chit chat about school for a few minutes, and then dive into Tony’s folder of schoolwork. By Thursday they’ve successfully muddled through about half of the packets and worksheets, although Tony admittedly isn’t so sure that they’ve been doing the math problems correctly.

Sometimes they finish early and flip through the comic books that Clay brings over for Tony to read, discussing the plot like it’s classic literature worthy of delving far too deeply into. It’s kind of nice, despite Tony feeling like crap. Neither of them can really remember the last time that they just spent time together like this.

It kind of makes Tony sad.

He hasn’t been avoiding Clay, not on purpose anyway...he just...he doesn’t see him as much these days. Tony doesn’t have a single class with Clay this year, and as far as extracurricular activities...Tony’s discovered pot and, despite not getting along with most of the school’s junkies, will put up with them long enough to get an ounce. (He wouldn’t have to do this if his brothers would just share their stash…)

Tony feels like he’s just become a bit of a loner lately, partially because of his interests and partially because who he is makes it harder for him to find acceptance or a tribe. Clay’s not exactly Mr. Popular himself, but he’s started to find himself a spot within the cliques, it seems. Clay’s nerdy, in a way most girls find cute, and he’s smart as hell, although he doubts himself. He’s decently likeable by most, except maybe the jocks and similar groups.

Tony supposes this was sort of inevitable at some point.

“I think I’ll be back at school on Monday,” Tony says on Friday, he and Clay working together to finish his English essay. “But, uh...I think I might still need some help catching up if that’s okay with you.”

Clay all but beams, nodding excitedly in a way that tells Tony he’s sort of sad and maybe scared by their parting of ways, too. “Yeah, sure! Oh, by the way…” Clay pauses to grab his backpack off of the bedroom floor. “Skye says hello and wanted me to give this to you.”

Tony grins as Clay hands him a folded over piece of paper, presumably adorning an unfairly detailed and impressive drawing of some sort. “Oh boy, what do we have here?”

“Open it up,” Clay urges with a sheepish smile. “I’d be lying if I said I didn’t take a peek during my lunch period. It’s really, really good.”

“All of Skye’s drawings are really, really good,” Tony replies with a soft laugh, unfolding the paper to reveal a caricature of himself, sporting a runny nose and flushed cheeks. A thermometer with the mercury threatening to burst out protrudes from his mouth and ‘Get Well, Asshole’ is written across the top in bubble letters.

Tony has to laugh.

“Wow….she’s got serious talent.”

Clay nods in agreement and allows a comfortable silence to settle in between them, Tony oohing and awing over his get-well gift and Clay staring around the mess that is Tony and Dante’s bedroom.

“You look a lot better today than you did when I first saw you on Monday,” Clay finally says quietly. “No offense, but you looked like hell.”

“No offense taken,” Tony says with a smile, purposefully scooting over to create an open space next to him. “I did look shitty, and I felt pretty bad, too.”

“Glad you’re feeling better.”

“Same here.”

Clay smiles to himself, more than content with the stress-free and comfortable silence that sweeps over them yet again. Tony’s smiling over at him with this serene look on his face, and he starts cocking his head, indicating that he’s offering up the spare room next to him up for rent. Clay stares for a moment, taken aback. Laying down next to Tony in his twin bed would put them in some pretty damn close quarters...not that that seriously bothers Clay if Tony’s cool with it.

Hesitantly, staring at Tony the entire time to ensure that he’s not crossing any boundaries, Clay moves from his perch on the edge of the bed and crawls up onto the pillow by the headboard, laying down beside his friend.

They’re both silent for a moment, Clay awkwardly shifting around so that he and Tony’s sides aren’t touching. It’s not really so weird if they’re both just laying side by side, sharing a bed but not body heat.

“My sister’s been talking about you all week,” Tony says softly, glancing over at Clay. “If I didn’t know any better, I’d think she’s in love with you.”

Clay’s face turns bright red, but he laughs easily enough. “She’s a little old for me, don’t you think?”

“Hey, are you calling my sister a cougar?” Tony jokes with a wicked grin, eyes crinkling.

“Maybe….she’s practically snatching them out of the cradle here, Tony.”

Tony laughs, snaking an arm over to wrap itself around Clay’s shoulders, causing the other boy to jump at the sudden contact. Clay almost yelps when Tony slowly but surely begins to pull Clay up against him, siddling up until their sides are touching and Clay’s head is on Tony’s shoulder. 

Clay unintentionally tenses up, rather shocked and admittedly feeling a little uncomfortable. It’s not Tony, it’s just...this is a little closer than Clay thought they’d be. It might not seem so odd if Clay had been raised in a touchy-feely household. After all, Lainie’s never really been much of a hugger, and Matt doesn’t see his boy for more than an hour a day most of the time.

Maybe this close proximity is normal. Hell, Mrs. Padilla always makes damn well sure to give Clay a nice, long squeeze whenever he comes over, Tony’s probably the same way. They’ve been friends for years now, too, so yeah, cuddling like this is rational, right?

Clay has missed Tony a hell of a lot, too. He doesn’t mind this private time with him, tucked away in his shared bedroom.

“You’re really warm,” Clay mutters, mentally slapping himself once the words slip passed his lips. “Not in a feverish way, but just...nice. You know?”

Tony smiles widely, tentatively running his fingers down Clay’s arm, feeling the fine hair there sticking straight up. “You’re cold, so that’s probably a good thing, huh?”

Clay flushes but manages to begin to relax, not even flinching when Tony begins to play with the hair at the nape of his neck. If Clay closes his eyes, it actually feels kind of nice, and, at some point or another, he finds himself on the verge of drifting off.

“I think I’m gonna fall asleep,” He whispers through a yawn. 

Tony hums drowsily in response, also obviously ready to fall asleep and take a nice, long afternoon nap. He rolls onto his side, all but enveloping his friend in his arms and holding onto him like he would his pillow.

Clay lets it happen.  
\------------------------------------------------------------------

The soft thud of bare feet on carpet stirs Clay from his sleep sometime around five o’clock in the afternoon, just as the sky outside starts to darken.

Tony, who has adapted to such minor disturbances after a lifetime of sharing a room, doesn’t wake up, but Clay does, blinking to himself as he momentarily forgets where the hell he is.

“Hey, Jensen, you awake?”

Clay blinks again before propping himself up on a pillow and looking over his shoulder. Tony’s older brother, Dante, is standing on the other side of the messy bedroom, eyeing up his brother and his friend with an odd look.

“Jensen?”

“Y-yeah?”

Dante simply nods before turning back around to face the bookshelf, continuing the search for his seemingly lost Playboy magazine. He swears, if Mateo has something to do with this…

“Hey, Jensen, my mama was wondering if you wanted to stay for dinner.”

Clay blinks, trying his best to stay still in order to not wake up Tony. “Oh, uh-”

“Not to sound needy, but I think it’d be pretty cool if you stayed over, kid. Haven’t seen you around in awhile.”

Clay flushes, unsure how to respond. “Um, thanks….I’ll have to call my dad, but yeah, I’m pretty sure I can stay over for dinner.”

Giving up the search, Dante lets out an irritated sigh, but is quick to smile slyly when he turns around to face Clay. “Alright, I’ll tell my mama….you look comfortable there.”

Clay’s face continues to burn as Dante walks out, still smirking to himself like he’s some kind of slick bastard.  
\-------------------------------------------

Javier and Mateo’s friend, Jacob Hunter, hangs out with girlfriend behind the McDonalds on Route Seventeen every weekday from noon to eight, selling to anyone who’s willing to pay in either cash or sexual favors.

Tony only pays with the first, saving up his allowance to buy a joint or two at least twice a week, trying his best to avoid bumping into any of his classmates on his weed runs. He knows that a few of the bigger stoners at school are aware of his involvement with pot, and he’s fine with that, but when it comes to the more judgemental crowd...he’d prefer that this little habit of his remain obscure.

“Oh, it’s Baby Padilla!” Jacob’s girl purrs when she spots the kid hurrying around the dumpster. “Look, Jake!”

Jacob smiles easily, already fishing around in his hoodie pocket for a decoy Altoids’ canister. “It is, isn’t it? What’s up, Baby? I haven’t seen your big brother Javier in forever. He buying from someone else these days?”

Tony shakes his head, pulling out a handful of ones. “He’s just been busy lately….his girlfriend doesn’t like him smoking pot.”

“Aah, should’ve known,” Jacob replies with a chuckle. “The second I met Rosella I knew which one of ‘em was wearing the pants.”

Tony doesn’t respond, simply waiting for Jacob to give him what he came here for….he’s due back home in twenty minutes, so it would be nice if this could just be a quick transaction.

However, Jacob and his girlfriend are both talkers.

“You got yourself a girl yet, Baby?” The girlfriend asks with a teasing smile. “Javier’s got Rosella, Mateo gets around just fine, but what about you?”

“Aw, lay off, Caleigh. He’s a bachelor, a handsome bachelor! He’s got his entire life to find a girl,” Jake replies with a laugh, playfully punching Tony’s shoulder. “I bet the girls are all over you already anyway, aren’t they, Baby?”

Tony simply shrugs, trying to thrust the money in Jacob’s general direction as politely as possible. If he isn’t home on time his mama’ll be suspicious...besides, Clay’s coming over soon to help him study for the algebra test. 

“Aw, c’mon, don’t be so shy, Baby,” The girlfriend mumbles, watching the exchange. “You feeling better? Mateo said you were real sick.”

“Yeah, I’m better, now. Thanks.”

“Hey, even if you’re not feeling better this shit’ll help you chill the fuck out,” Jacob says with a grin, waving as Tony slowly starts to back away. “Take care of yourself, Baby.”

“You, too,” Tony replies before hurrying away, trying to find that perfect pace between speed walking and outright running to avoid looking like a complete jagoff.

He fails to do so when he manages to walk directly into someone in his haste.

“Shit! Watch where you’re going…..Padilla?”

Tony, beyond embarrassed and apologetic, is quick to his feet and goes to help up whoever it is he just managed to plow over when….shit.

He knows this person, he goes to school with this person. At his feet and stripped of his usual arrogant grace is the infamous Ryan Shaver, a boy well known throughout the student body for his intense passion put into the school paper and year book….he also tends to be quite the snob.

Great.

“Hey, Ryan,” Tony mumbles, helping the other boy up to his feet. “Sorry about that…”

Ryan, seemingly more concerned with the circumstances of his fall than the actual fall itself, shoots Tony a wicked smile. 

“You smoke pot, Padilla?”

Tony, really not in the mood to be grilled by a gossip like Shaver, simply sighs and tries to walk away, feeling Shaver’s eyes burning through his back as he hurries away in his own little cloud of shame.

“I’m not all that surprised, not really!” Ryan shouts after him, the smile audible in his voice. “What’s the excitement of another Padilla turning to back alleys!”

If Ryan really and truly weren’t excited about such a development he’d shut the hell up, but no, he’s thrilled. A juicy, new story dropped right into his lap.  
\----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

For awhile Tony thinks that Ryan’s going to let the incident slide, just let it drop like a hot cake. But, of course not, because that would make Tony’s life much too convenient.

Ryan, downright gleeful to have dirt on someone as closed off and mysterious as Tony Padilla, takes this opportunity in stride. When he spots Tony headed in the direction of that fateful Micky D’s, Ryan follows.

“Padilla!” He finally shouts once they’re rounding the corner. “Padilla! Look at me!”

Tony looks practically sour-faced when he spots Ryan trailing behind him. He doesn’t respond, but stops and allows the other boy to catch up to him.

“Padilla, don’t look so excited to see me,” Shaver jokes dryly. “Seriously, you might stroke the fuck out.”

Tony, never one to be rude because that’s just not how he was raised, forces a twitchy smile. “Sorry.”

Ryan shrugs dismissively in a way that shows genuine apathy before grabbing at Tony’s arm and pulling him closer. “Look, I didn’t mean to scare you off, okay? Your secret’s safe with me, my lips are sealed.”

Looking skeptical as an atheist in church, Tony quirks an eyebrow. “You didn’t tell anyone?”

“Nope.”

“Seriously? No offense, but from what I’ve heard about you-”

“Okay, okay! I told a few of the girls on the hip hop team, but they didn’t give two shits, alright? Seriously, my story fell flat as those bitches’ chests, so….I didn’t tell anyone who cares. Fair enough?”

Tony can’t help but laugh, finding Shaver charismatic in his own unique, bitchy way. “Sure, sure.”

Ryan smiles triumphantly “See? I’m not so bad, not to you anyways….yeah, your boyfriend has no idea you kiss Mary Jane if that’s what you were worried about.”

“Clay’s not my boyfri-”

“I kid, I kid!” Ryan exclaims, shushing Tony with a flick of his wrist. “Look, I just...I guess I wanted to apologize.”

“The great and mighty Ryan Shaver is apologizing to me?” Tony asks with a smirk. “Seriously, what is this?”

Ryan rolls his eyes, letting go of Tony’s arm to put his hands on his hips. “Look, push it and it’s gone, shut up and it’s golden, okay?”

Tony, once again baffled and amused by how bizarre this whole situation is, laughs aloud and shrugs. “Alright then… Can I ask why you’re following me?”

“I’m not following you, we’re both just going to the same place. Besides, I don’t follow, I lead!”

Tony stares for a moment before shrugging yet again, feeling that it’s really his only defense here. That last statement continues to ring in his ears though, ‘I don’t follow I lead!’

It sounds weird, maybe because that is something that his best friend and secret infatuation would never, ever say.

If Clay ever were to say something like that it would be a joke, said with a bittersweet, self-deprecating smile.

Odd.

“You don’t talk much, do you?” Ryan asks with a disappointed sigh. “I suppose that’s good for me, I’ve always wanted a quiet companion to listen to me bitch, you know? Can you handle that for an afternoon?”

Tony thinks that this may be an invitation to hang out.

“I know you might not be sold on the idea, but...I’ll buy?” Ryan offers with a wink, pulling out his wallet as they near the McDonalds. “You down for that, Padilla?”

Tony shrugs, feeling as if he’s got nothing better to do anyway. Not really anyway.

Ryan smiles again as if he’s won some prize and, much to Tony’s shock, reaches out to grab his hand and tug him along, almost in the way a mother leads their sleepy child. 

As the two of them reach the back of the seedy fast food joint, greeted by a baked Jacob and his surprisingly sober girlfriend, Tony feels his phone buzz in his pocket.

Clay: Hey, remember how you were having trouble with that history project? I just found a really detailed book on the Mexican Wars hidden in my dad’s junk drawer. Wanna look through it and finish up your project?

Tony can’t help but smile, as Clay Jensen is the only person he knows who uses perfect grammar and punctuation when texting. He won’t even use emojis, despite Skye’s incessant teasing about him being a texting prude.

Yes, Clay’s the boy who texts like a dad and is a complete history buff, despite vehement denial. For Christ’s sake, he has the fucking Oregon Trail app downloaded onto his phone…

And Ryan, who’s currently grinning at Tony like a cat, is the boy paying for their weed with the money out of his faux mocassin wallet. Ryan’s the boy with his hair gelled back and styled, the boy who is just as obsessed with skinny jeans and making sure he’s up to date on pop culture as Courtney fucking Crimsen.

Tony: Can we make a rain check :(

Clay: Sure, no problem. Just remember that the project is due on Thursday.

Tony sighs, chest feeling heavy as Ryan, having had purchased their pot, grabs his hand once again and begins to lead him down to the abandoned pet shop parking lot, the one where Tony sat and listened to Clay tear himself apart.

“You know, you’re not bad looking, Padilla.”

Tony smiles, feeling torn. Ryan’s smiling at him, looking as sincere as a horny teenager can be.

“You know, you’re growing on me, too, Shaver.”

The division, as unintentional and innocent as it is, has officially been set into motion.


	7. Fifteen

Both Tony and Clay start high school when they’re fifteen, their worlds drifting further and further apart.

This gradual parting of ways doesn’t really register with Clay until it’s far too late to fix. An entire summer without contact goes by in what feels like mere seconds, creating an ocean of time between Tony and himself. They don’t talk anymore, and as warm as the old memories are, that’s all they are, memories.

Tony is starting feel more and more like a distant relative, someone in the back of Clay’s mind that makes him smile when he drifts to the forefront, but otherwise forgotten. They pass in silence, going about their own business in their own little worlds. 

Tony is now the somber king of his own lonely kingdom, ruling over his blazing fields of marijuana and bad decisions while Clay resides in the turbulent mountains, hiding away in the stone while he bides his time.

Distant would be a good word choice.

Skye isn’t that different these days, not doing any more than shyly waving at Clay from across the hallway, looking as if she’s only ever spoken to him in her dreams. It’s weird, and it makes Clay’s head foggy with nostalgia and lost time whenever he dwells on it for too long.

So he doesn’t.

Clay’s life isn’t exactly together, it isn’t synchronized and planned down to the minute like Courtney's is, but he’s actively trying to get his shit together. He up and quit taking his meds without his parents permission, flushing his pills down the sink drain to avoid suspicion. Why such a drastic, sudden change? Clay doesn’t really know, it just hit him one night and he decided, then and there, that he was done with anti-anxiety meds and mood enhancers.

It could’ve been something Clay overheard his classmates say in the hallway about people on ‘happy pills’, or perhaps it was pure self pity, but Clay made his choice and he hasn’t gone back on it yet, despite slight symptoms of withdrawal gnawing away at him day and night. Clay persists, and his grades are decent.

He’s doing okay, nothing below a satisfactory ‘B’, and his parents aren’t around enough to nag at him about socializing and what not, so things are pretty good.

Life goes on.  
\----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

“Are you free on Tuesday?” Ryan asks, eyes glazed over and bloodshot. “I want to take you to that new coffee shop they just put in by the theatre, get you truly cultured.”

“I have to drink overpriced coffee to be cultured?” Tony asks quizzically, a ringlet of smoke sneaking past his lips and floating towards the ceiling. 

“Yes,” Ryan answers simply, rolling over on his bed to snatch the dubie back. 

He smiles triumphantly when Tony doesn’t object.

“What the hell is with you and coffee? Isn’t Starbucks enough?” Tony asks. “Won’t the baristas there feel like you cheated on her if you go to this new establishment?”

“I’m a curious man, Padilla, I need to explore.”

“Should I be concerned by that statement?” Tony teases with a light hearted smile, earning himself a playful smack. 

“You’re my main adventure right now, I don’t need to go looking for anything else,” Ryan says with a laugh, sitting up onto his knees and gazing down at his boyfriend with a fond smile. “Why leave Rome for the suburbs?”

“I’m Rome?” 

“Would you rather be the amazon or France?” Ryan offers, scooching forward to sit atop of Tony’s knees. “I wouldn’t mind going to Spain, either…”

“My family is Mexican.”

“Your ethnicity wasn’t the point, babe.”

Tony shrugs, letting his eyes flutter closed as he feels Ryan’s weight settle on top of him, the dubie’s unlit end being pressed up against his lips in a silent demand for him to open up.

“Suck,” Ryan instructs with a lopsided smile, beginning to toy around the buckle of Tony’s belt. “You relaxed yet?”

“Mmm,” Tony hums, exhaling through his nose and smiling at the familiar burn, rooting his left and in Ryan’s thoroughly conditioned hair and massaging his scalp. 

“You know, I used to have a lot more weed before you came around, Padilla. You smoke more than I do, and because you're so into Mary Jane, I gotta keep huffing just to keep up with you….Speed Racer.”

“You talk too much,” Tony replies with a chuckle, lifting his hips as Ryan finally manages to undo his belt and toss it onto the floor, moving onto the task of sliding off his jeans. “Maybe I wouldn’t need to be high if you’d give me a few minutes of silence.”

“I can put my mouth to better use if you’d like,” Ryan teases with a smirk, purposefully sitting up onto his knees to avoid making any physical contact. He loves to be the world’s biggest tease, and Tony always plays right along. 

“Open your eyes, Tony.”

“Bossy.”

“When am I not?”

Tony chuckles but complies, opening his eyes and gazing up at the proud boy straddling his waist, hovering mere inches above his crotch with a wicked smile. This little routine of theirs has just become comfortable, and Tony doesn’t mind the teasing, soft touches that warm him up for the activities in store anymore, as he’s learned how Ryan likes to work his magic.

The first time had admittedly made Tony nervous, just for the simple fact that no one had ever touched him, not in a sexual way. It felt almost wrong to have someone else’s hands there.

Now Tony wants those hands there, here, and everywhere.

“Are you done there?” Ryan asks, pointing to the dubie. Before Tony can nod, Ryan’s already stolen it back, inhaling deeply and choking before leaning down to crush their lips together, thick smoke filling any breathing space between them.  
\----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

The hallway is swamped, as always, and Clay wishes he had a life vest to keep from drowning in it all.

“Hey, Clay!”

Clay, upon hearing his name, turns around. This simple action causes a momentary pile up, three students walking right into Clay and almost knocking him to the gum-wrapper covered floor. 

“Clay!”

Now slightly fazed, Clay is lost as to where to look. Why the hell would someone be calling him? Most people just let him do his own thing and slide by, occasionally initiating in casual conversations without any depth. What is this?

“Clay!”

Turning around yet again and stalling another pack of students, Clay finally finds his caller. Skye is standing by the water fountains, smiling at him and waving. 

When’s the last time she did that? Lately she’s been ignoring him altogether or just smiling if they happen to make eye contact. Why the sudden change of heart?

Clay wants to smile back and make his way over. He wants to talk to her again, wants to give her a hug and ditch class with her in order to properly catch up. They could sit under the bleachers in the gym and laugh at dumb jokes, or take it back to the good old days and hide in the girl’s bathroom together.

But Clay doesn’t smile. He doesn’t wave back.

The crowd scoops him up and carries him away down the hallway, leaving Skye and her smile in the dust.  
\----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

The new coffee house looks just as indie inspired as Tony pictured it, sporting various pretentious, abstract paintings of melting faces and people with fish bowls for heads. The icing on the cake are the Smiths album covers being used at table decorations.

“What are you going to get?” Ryan asks as the two of them stand in line, watching the level-headed barista behind the counter juggle five orders at once like a goddamn pro. “I’ve always been an iced mocha kind of guy myself. You ever drink coffee?”

Tony shakes his head, wondering how childish he’ll look if he gets up to the counter and orders a hot chocolate. Ryan’s order sounds super fucking sophisticated compared to his…

“Do you prefer milk chocolate or dark chocolate?” 

Tony blinks, unsure what the hell his chocolate preferences have to do with their current situation. “Dark.”

“Then you want something more bitter, possibly herbal,” Ryan says with a knowing nod, sounding like a doctor making a diagnosis. “Take it black if you really want to play it safe, babe.”

The second the pet name is said aloud, Tony can’t help but flinch as if he’s been slapped and quickly glance around to make sure no one else in line is giving them off looks.

Ryan seems unfazed, naturally, because he’s apparently way more comfortable in this blooming romance than Tony is, or maybe he’s just more confident with his sexual orientation. Whichever it is, Tony can’t help but feel guilty for his knee-jerk reaction.

“Could you order for me?” Tony asks quietly. “I have no idea what the hell to get.”

“Sure,” Ryan replies with a shrug. “If you hate it, though, I can’t be held responsible.”

“Fair enough.”

\----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

Mother-son bonding time is extremely rare for Clay and Lainie Jensen, what with Lainie’s busy work schedule and need for alone time. However, Lainie does strive to spend at least a little one-on-one time with her boy in order to have some idea of what’s going on in his life.

She does too have control over her kid, she knows what’s up. She’s in no way like the other oblivious working mothers who come home to find their kids smoking pot and having sex.

But even though these short, and scarcely held meetings between the two exist, they are by no means comfortable and warm. Lainie is, in general, not a warm and fuzzy caregiver. Her own mother wasn’t either, so where would she learn such maternal traits? Yes, of course, she loves her son dearly, she just isn’t very good at expressing said love.

Because of their lack of an emotional connection, Lainie and Clay’s forced time together in the same room usually lasts about twenty minutes and consists of heavy silence between dumb small talk. Nothing too substantial is ever said. Very little eye contact is made.

It gets worse every time, but this particular session between mother and son is particularly bad, as Lainie has actual issues to bring up with her son instead of the usual questions about his friends and class work.

“I’m not trying to cause you any more stress than you’re already under, but colleges don’t just look at grades, honey. They look at extracurriculars, too,” Lainie explains with a shake of her head. “A student with average grades who held a stable job at Panera looks better than a student with excellent grades who didn’t do anything in his freetime.”

“So...is this your way of telling me to join a sports team?” Clay asks flatly, chest constricting uncomfortably at the mere thought of showing up to a soccer tryout with a bunch of beautifully built jocks.

No fucking way.

“It doesn’t have to be a sports team,” Lainie replies, staring down her cigarette and keeping her eyes trained on the television screen. “There’s other options, like school sponsored clubs, volunteer work, and employment.”

Clay mulls this over for a moment before replying. He supposes he could get a job...as long as it’s somewhere without a big staff, as Clay always feels awkward in big groups. He shouldn’t get too picky, though, he realizes, as he needs to see who’s hiring and whatnot before making any decisions.

“Are there any opportunities you’re interested in?” Lainie asks tentatively after several seconds of silence. “I used to work as a library assistant during my college days.”

“I don’t know, mom, I think I need to see what opportunities are out there first,” Clay finally replies, staring down at his socked feet. 

“I think this whole job thing is a good idea and all...but joining some in-school activity would be good for you as a person,” Lainie adds as an afterthought. “You can socialize with your classmates and find other people with common interests. That’d be nice, wouldn’t it?”

Clay shrugs, avoiding a direct ‘no’. His mother doesn’t like the word ‘no’....

“There are tons of clubs at your school...environmental clubs, sport clubs, art clubs, humanitarian clubs...where are your interests these days, Clay?”

“I don’t know.”

Lainie gives her son a sidelong look. “You have no idea what you’re interested in? None at all? What do you do when you’re not doing your homework or studying?”

“Eat. Listen to music.”

“I don’t suppose there are any clubs where you could eat and listen to music with your classmates?”

“Not any that I can think of.”

“That’s sad, Clay, c’mon,” Lainie mumbles with an exasperated sigh. “Don’t they have anything you’re even remotely interested in?”

Clay shrugs, feeling just as frustrated with himself as his mom is. Why the hell doesn’t he like anything? “I don’t even know about, like, half the clubs at the school. Freshman rush was a mess.”

“Well, do some snooping around and see what tickles your fancy,” Lainie instructs firmly, hinting that not joining a club of some sort is not an option for Clay. “I’m sure they’ll have something for you, honey, it’s high school. They want everyone involved.”

Clay simply nods in response and watches as his mother pulls herself back up onto her sore feet. She shoots her son a smile and presses a quick kiss to his forehead before making her way upstairs for the night.

Meeting adjourned.  
\----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

“You really like that Monet’s place, huh?” Tony teases lightly as he and Ryan make their way down the sidewalk with no particular destination in mind. 

Ryan shrugs, styrofoam cup in hand. “It’s definitely giving Starbucks a run for its money.”

“What’s the difference?”

“Monet’s atmosphere is better, more original and friendly.”

“Okay, but it’s more expensive,” Tony points out, not even bothering to bring up the fact that he’s seen about a dozen other tiny coffee shops with very similar decor. If Ryan considers the unoriginal originality of a coffee shop to be special, so be it. Tony personally doesn’t get the appeal.

“You pay a price for quality, Padilla” Ryan explains matter-of-factly. “Speaking of paying for quality...I believe it’s your turn to pay Jacob.”

Tony blushes, realizing that he’s forgotten his wallet at home. Oh shit, Ryan’s paid for their weed twice this month now...how shitty of a boyfriend is he, making Ryan pay for his coffee and pot? How bad is it that he still cringes when Ryan introduces him to others as his boyfriend? Is he terrible?

“I don’t have any cash on me,” Tony admits with a guilty sigh. “Would you mind-”

“No, of course not,” Ryan says with a grin that looks truly at ease. That’s the funny thing about Ryan Shaver, he loves to come across as superficial and snooty, a true blue-blooded boy with money, but he’s really nice once one gets friendly with him.

Tony still wishes he had the money. At least then he’d be reliable…

“You’re quiet today,” Ryan comments breezily. “You didn’t say anything while we were in Monet’s, so I’m entitled to ask; is something on your mind?”

“I’m just tired,” Tony replies with a forced smile and direct stare to look sincere. He likes Ryan, at least...he really wants to like Ryan. He likes having sex with Ryan, he likes Ryan’s lips around his cock and he likes smoking pot with Ryan. He likes talking to Ryan and laughing about inane things with him, but...he should want more, right?

He should be more invested, just as invested and hopeful as Ryan is. Ryan wants to know him as a person and understand him, while Tony’s plenty content simply fucking and spending time together to chat and exchange pleasantries. 

‘Does that make me a bad person? Am I a player, am I disgusting?’ Tony wonders over and over again, feeling awful and wanting to throw up. He really just wants the weed now, everything’s easier when the two of them are high and loose, kissing on Ryan’s bed and letting their tongues and minds roam.

Tony jumps when Ryan reaches out and grabs his hand, interlacing their fingers and giving his hand a squeeze.

Tony swallows his emotions and squeezes back, already tasting the smoke in his mouth, leaving him empty and ashamed.

“Don’t feel bad about the weed, okay?” Ryan says softly, misreading the look on his boyfriend’s face. “I don’t mind, seriously. You can pay me back later in bed.”

Tony laughs weakly and nods.  
\----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

The bulletin board outside of the main office is always covered in papers upon papers, all thumb-tacked over one another in haste. No one ever stops to read any of the numerous papers, none of the students care enough and all of the staff are up to date on all of the school’s going ons.

So Clay is a damn spectacle when he stops in front of the bulletin board and begins to peel through the layers of papers, searching for some club to join that won’t cause him the desire to kill himself.

Baking Club (presumably all girls that will exclude Clay and giggle at him behind his back while he stands by himself in front of his own lonesome stove), Recycling Club (sounds good on paper but is most likely a bunch of slackers who only joined for the sake of their transcripts), REC Football (ew), Choir (everyone would kill themselves if Clay dare try to sing), and Art Club (Clay draws as well as he sings).

Great. 

Clay keeps looking, realizing he can’t give up on this. There has to be something, right? A bunch of other REC sport clubs, drama, freestyle band, more specific art clubs, student council, cosmetics…

FInally, after a full five minutes of searching, Clay Jensen stumbles across his holy grail in the form of a bright blue form.

Tutoring.

Clay thinks he could do that...he just has to choose a subject to tutor in and then he’s set. He even gets paid ten bucks an hour, which is pretty cool. As long as Clay gets paired with someone who actually gives a damn about their grade and isn’t a total ass, he thinks that this could very possibly work out okay.

Clay takes the form with him, re-reading it several times throughout the day to ensure that he understands all of it, even the fine print. Choose a subject, sign up in the main office, get assigned a random student who is currently seeking help, make up his own schedule, and then, finally, get paid.

Seems easy enough for any normal person, but Clay already has anxiety about the arrangement, and he hasn’t even filled out his form yet...oh well, he has to do this if he doesn’t want his mom on his case for the rest of his high school career.

This can’t go too horribly wrong, right?  
\----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

The Shavers’ house always looks over furnished to Tony, too cramped with all of the odd little end tables and unnecessary ottomans all over the place. Whoever is in charge of decorating seems to have a hard on for Ikea, but Tony doesn’t think about it too much.

The only room he usually spends time in is Ryan’s bedroom, and occasionally the guest bathroom. Getting to know the house makes Tony uncomfortable, probably because that’s some, weak form of commitment. Even acknowledging how well he knows the layout of Ryan’s room is a little much, in all honesty...but Tony could tell you exactly where all of his boyfriend’s knicknacks are and what order his books are in on the shelves.

“Are you falling asleep on me?” Ryan asks with a smile, glancing up from his magazine. 

Tony smiles in return and shakes his head, eyes glued to the ceiling. He knows how many cracks criss cross one another like track marks, exactly twenty seven, and he’s currently in the process of recounting them for the tenth time.

“I wish we could light up,” Ryan drawls with a sigh, flopping down onto his back and glancing over at Tony. “I could use the buzz.”

“We still have some weed, don’t we?” Tony asks, swearing that they only smoked half of what they bought last Friday. 

“We do, but my mom’s coming home early tonight, sooo….can’t really have the place reeking like a whore house, right?” Ryan jokes with a snort, tucking his head under Tony’s arm and waiting for a response of some sort. When he doesn’t get one after a full second and a half, he continues;

“You should really meet her.”

“Your mom?” Tony asks slowly. “Won’t that be awkward?”

“Why would that be awkward? We’ve been together for almost eight months now, don’t you think it’s high time we got to know each other’s families?” Ryan asks, raising an eyebrow and looking truly confused. 

Tony shrugs, running his fingers up and down Ryan’s neck as he thinks about what the hell to say to Mrs. Shaver. Obviously a simple greeting will do, but after that? Does he refer to himself as Ryan’s boyfriend? Does he play it safe and just call himself a friend? 

“Seriously, does the thought of meeting my mother make your skin crawl?” Ryan asks, unhappy with Tony’s lack of a vocal response. If he was anything like Clay he’d sense Tony’s unease and drop it, but this is Ryan Shaver, boy wonder and unapologetic ice breaker.

A shrug will simply not do.

“No, I just don’t know what I’ll say to her, is all,” Tony admits with a casual shrug, feeling panic start to well up in his chest when Ryan abruptly sits up and glares at him. 

“She’s my mom, you just say hi, introduce yourself, and let her lead the conversation,” Ryan says with a huff. “It’s not rocket science, Padilla.”

“Does she know that you and I are...like...together?”

“Yeah, somehow it came up in conversation,” Ryan replies, losing his cool over this, much to Tony’s dismay. “Do your parents know that we’re a thing?”

“No,” Tony admits, figuring it’s better to just rip the band-aid off and avoid conflict later. 

“Why not?” Ryan asks, eyes narrowing yet again. He looks thoroughly pissed off by this news, and Tony honestly can’t blame him...it is ridiculous, he should’ve told them, should’ve told at least a few people at school instead of hiding this relationship as if it’s shameful…

“I don’t know.”

“Tony…”

“They’re not as cool about this kind of thing as your parents apparently are,” Tony claims. He truthfully doesn’t really know how his parents feel about homosexuality, but he’s too nervous to breach the subject and ask, especially now that he’s come to terms with who he is.

Why risk it and be bludgeoned in the head by those he loves for something he can’t help?

“Your parents are homophobes?” Ryan asks, face softening.

“Y-yeah.”

Ryan slowly nods and crawls back onto the bed, reaching out for Tony’s hand and playing with his fingers. “Jesus….okay...I get it, I get it. Could I still meet them though? As your friend?”

“Why do you want to meet my family so badly?” Tony asks with a sigh. 

“Because your my boyfriend and you have been for awhile! What’s with you, anyway? It’s not just your family, you don’t want anyone at school to know about us either!” Ryan exclaims angrily, dropping Tony’s hand like a hot coal and crossing his arms over his chest. “Are you embarrassed to be with me? Is that why you’re so against telling anyone?”

“I just told you, my parents-”

“Not just your parents, Tony! Everyone at school-”

“I’m sorry, I didn’t realize-”

“Yes, you did! Why-”

“Ryan…”

Ryan, face red and lips quivering, lets out a sigh and turns his back to his boyfriend, glaring out his bedroom window as he stews. If Tony’s parents are homophobic, he gets it, he’s dealt with homophobes before, but why is he so uptight about not using pet names are holding hands at school? Last week Ryan used the word ‘boyfriend’ out loud, and Tony looked ready to die…

What are they doing?

“If I make you so fucking ashamed, maybe we should see other people,” Ryan finally grits out, feeling stupid for thinking that this train wreck would ever work out. Yeah, they both like pot, sex, and casual banter, but that’s not a sturdy foundation for a relationship…

“Ryan,” Tony pleads, sitting up and running his hands through his hair. “I like you, okay? I love you, I just...I have a different way of showing it than you do.”

Ryan raises an eyebrow, but doesn't object. He’s a beautiful boy, really, blonde hair gelled back and big, hazel eyes staring at Tony with anticipation. Why Tony continues to crush his spirit, even Tony doesn’t know. Why is he salvaging this? Shouldn’t he just let Ryan go, let him find someone better?

He hates that Ryan calls him his boyfriend, hates that he runs around telling anyone that’ll listen. Tony’s not ashamed, but he’s annoyed. He only feels close to Ryan when they’re smoking pot together or having sex, but when they’re standing side by side in Monet’s and Ryan goes to grab his hand….Tony feels so fucking far away.

Ryan doesn’t understand him or what he wants, doesn’t listen to him when he talks or respect the shaky boundaries Tony tries to establish.

They’re not going to ever get past this, Tony can feel it, but yet here he is, babbling on and on about how they can make this work.

Ryan buys it, under certain circumstances...he gets to come over to Tony’s house for a big meet-and-greet with the family, which Tony begrudgingly agrees to just so that he’ll stop talking and let him sleep, or maybe they’ll just lie side by side in silence.

Whatever, Tony thinks with an internal groan, wondering why he’s making such a mess out of everything these days.  
\----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

“Ah, Clay Jensen!” The assistant principal beams, clapping loudly as the pale boy nervously slinks into her office. “So glad you could make it! I received your sign-up sheet to become a tutor just yesterday evening, but I read it and thought we should get you started as soon as possible!”

Clay nods and manages to make brief eye contact, smiling shyly as he takes a seat in front of the assistant’s desk. He’s still a little unsure about this whole tutoring thing, but he figures that it beats playing a sport or trying to force any talent that he doesn’t have.

“So, you read over all of the guidelines, right?”

Clay nods. 

“Alright, I take it that I have the correct email address since you showed up here,” The assistant principal mumbles, digging around in her desk drawer for a clipboard. “You signed up to tutor in English, yes?”

Clay nods.

“Alright, we currently have five students searching for an English tutor…”

“I take it math is where the money’s at, right?” Clay jokes weakly, earning himself a startling howl from the assistant principal

“You bet! Forty seven kids are looking for a math tutor, and thirty are looking for a foreign language tutor, mostly Spanish...you’ll be fine, though! I have a list of names here, and one of them belongs to a nice young man in your grade! You’d probably be more comfortable tutoring another freshman, right?”

Clay nods, cheeks burning at the mere thought of being partnered with a know-it-all senior. 

“That’s what I thought. So, the boy in your grade is named Jeff Atkins, and he’s the pitcher on our baseball team! I promise you that he won’t give you a hard time, he’s very nice and responsible. Because of his hectic baseball schedule, he requested your sessions be during lunch on Wednesdays and Thursdays for an hour and a half in the library. Does that work for you, Clay?”

Clay nods yet again, hoping that this kid really is as nice as the assistant principal says he is. Clay has a hard enough time dealing with his classmates as it is, so if Atkins turns out to be a grade-A asshole, things will very quickly go south. If Clay could have his way, Tony would be looking for an English tutor...then he’d have an excuse to talk to his old best friend again without seeming needy and pathetic….Tony’s probably already forgotten about him, anyway.

“Can you start next week?” The assistant principal asks, still smiling in a way that looks forced and painful. 

Another nod.

“Good! Thank you for signing up, Clay, we’re running a little low on tutors this year. If you have any questions about the program feel free to shoot me an email, okay?”

“Okay, thanks,” Clay says awkwardly, slowly backing out of the office as the woman returns to clacking away on her laptop. A ‘goodbye’ would be sort of nice, but Clay supposes that no one really ever bothers to say goodbye before leaving.

Sometimes they just go.  
\----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

“That Ryan boy is nice enough,” Mrs. Padilla hums as her and her children clean up the dinner table, loading the dishwasher and throwing the napkins into the laundry hamper. “Èl tiene un sonrisa muy bonita.”

“Yo quiero su pelo,” Sophia says with a grin. “I wish my hair looked that smooth.”

Mateo, Javier, and Dante, all looking beyond bored by the notion of discussing the mellow-tempered dinner they just sat through, simply mumble and shrug before excusing themselves, leaving the bulk of the work for their mama, sister, and baby brother. It’s not that they dislike Ryan, the kid was fine, it’s just that he’s not all that interesting to them.

Feminine, funny, and well-dressed, sure, but it admittedly strikes them all as odd that Tony’s decided to spend so much time with him. He knows nothing about cars, has a totally different sense of humor, and simply doesn’t seem anything like any of Tony’s old friends.

It’s a little odd is all.

“How long have you been spending time with Ryan?” Mrs. Padilla asks as she finishes loading up the dishwasher. “I’ve never met him before tonight…”

Tony simply shrugs, figuring this situation will be less awkward if he just plays it cool and is vague with any answers he begrudgingly gives.

“Well, where’d you meet him?”

“School.”

Mrs. Padilla accepts this answer and moves on. She found tonight to be plenty enjoyable, but awkward. Ryan was a nice boy, but Tony looked...uncomfortable. It’s not like her boy to be coy and shy, so something obviously isn’t right, she just can’t figure out what it is.

“He was pretty funny,” Sophia comments, trying to keep a conversation going in hopes of keeping everything on the down low. Maybe her mama doesn’t get it because it's not something that’d even be on her radar, but she knows.

Ryan was totally her brother’s secret boyfriend. Why else would Tony have sat there looking like he swallowed a nickel the whole night, even while Ryan was telling jokes like a stand-up comedian and smiling easily?

“Yeah,” Tony agrees, tossing a dish towel up into the air and catching it repeatedly, doing anything to avoid making eye contact. “He is pretty funny.”

“I think we can finish up in here, mama,” Sophia offers, trying to get some alone time with her brother to talk. She doesn’t know if she has the figurative balls to bring up the whole ‘gay’ or ‘bi’ thing, but she thinks it’d be good to at least clear the air and show some support and understanding.

“You sure, mija?” Mrs. Padilla asks, warily eyeing the dishes that still need to be put away. She has faith in her children, but they never seem to know where everything goes...she’s found her measuring cups in the wrong drawer plenty of times now, which is a big pet peeve of hers.

“Yeah, mama, me and Tony got it,” Sophia says with a smile, waiting for her mother to leave the room before starting the conversation with her brother.

Tony seems to know what’s coming his way, and he not so subtly tries to leave the kitchen, head down and hands shoved in his jean pockets. He makes a beeline for the doorway, but Sophia's no idiot. 

“You’re not leaving me to put all of these dishes away by myself.”

If Tony were a less responsible person he would simply continue out of the room and join his brothers in the living room, but Tony is a responsible person, almost to a fault, so he stays. He hovers awkwardly in the corner for a moment, biting his lip as he waits for his sister to stop looking at him.

He didn’t want to have Ryan come over to his house and meet his family. He wouldn’t have done this if Ryan hadn’t gotten so offended by Tony’s blatant refusal to bring him home and let him meet the family. 

What was the big deal anyway? Tony’s never really gotten to know either of Ryan’s parents, never sat down at dinner with the Shaver family and endured uncomfortable small talk. The only reason Tony’s even been in Ryan’s house is because he isn’t super comfortable with receiving a blow job in the abandoned pet store parking lot, nor is the mall a private place to be together.

Ryan’s house is just convenient for sex, pot, and cuddling. Tony doesn’t expect to be seen by Ryan’s busy, workaholic parents or college attendee brother. That’s why they chose Ryan’s place over Tony’s, for the privacy, as there is no such thing as privacy in the Padilla household.

But whatever. What’s done is done.

“You don’t have to look so mortified, Tony,” Sophia chirps, back turned to him as she pushes a stack of plates into an overhanging cupboard. “Ellos no saben nada. No te preocupes.”

Tony feels himself stiffen like a rod, eyeing his sister’s back warily. She has to know if she’s talking like that...is she uncomfortable? Is she angry? Is this simple statement a sign of acceptance?

Tony isn’t brave enough to find out tonight, so he helps his sister finish putting any dishes away in silence before quickly slipping away to his and Dante’s room. He’s sort of pissed off and frustrated, because he made it perfectly clear to Ryan that he wouldn’t be comfortable with having him over, but as always, Ryan gets whatever he wants.

At least he didn’t use the word ‘boyfriend’ tonight, or Tony might’ve died.

“Your friend was alright,” Dante says off handedly, not even looking up from his phone as Tony enters the bedroom. “Ryan, right?”

“Yeah.”

“Ok...you know who I miss seeing at our dinner table?”

“Who?” Tony asks through a heavy sigh, preparing himself for a stupid hooker joke and, Jesus, he’s really not in the mood this evening.

“Clay Jensen.”

Tony’s lips reflexively twist into a soft smile upon hearing his old friend’s name and he feels his stomach drop. When’s the last time he saw Clay? When the hell did they talk last? Jesus, what the hell happened with them, they used to be so close and now they’re basically strangers...right?

He doesn’t even know what classes Clay’s enrolled in this semester, or how he’s doing...and Clay doesn’t know what’s up with Tony anymore, either. Tony frowns because thinking about this actually hurts like a bitch and makes him feel all kinds of sad.

“I haven’t seen him in forever,” Dante continues with a whistle, eyes still glued to his cracked phone screen.

“Neither have I,” Tony admits, wondering if a simple ‘hey’ via text message will do any good or just make him feel more alone when Clay fails to respond.  
\----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

The library is pretty crowded during the mid-day lunch period, several students cramming for an afternoon test or simply hanging around to play on their phones, tucking them inside of thick books whenever the librarian comes marching by.

Clay briefly considers hiding in the bathroom as he scans the packed library, stomach twisting and nerves frying. He can’t do this, he can’t do this, he can’t do this, he can’t-

“Hey, are you Clay Jensen?” 

Clay looks to his left to see a tan boy in an LA Kings jersey staring at him with an amiable smile, hand outstretched in welcome.

“Uh, yeah…”

“Cool! I’m Jeff,” the boy says, still smiling as he snags Clay’s hand and gives it a firm shake before Clay can get skittish and pull away. “I don’t see any open tables in here, so do you maybe want to take this to the bleachers outside?”

Clay numbly nods, following Jeff outside to the football field. Maybe this will be okay, maybe he won’t suck at teaching, and maybe Jeff will be nice and listen. Maybe this can work out.

“So, uh, I kind of need to ask: why English?” Jeff asks with a grin as they climb up the dew-damp bleachers. 

“Wh-what?”

“Why do you want to tutor people in English? No offense, but I think it’s the most boring class there is, just a bunch of weird grammar rules we don’t follow when speaking and dumb stories…”

Clay feels himself smile awkwardly and let out a scratchy laugh. “Uh, well, I like reading, like, a lot, and...grammar isn’t so bad once you understand it…”

“Yeah?” Jeff asks with a soft sigh, heavily plopping down and gazing up at his new tutor. “I don’t know, Clay, I don’t think I’ll ever be able to understand all of those fucked up rules.”

Clay smiles again, more naturally this time. “Hey, they are pretty fucked up, but you’ll get them at one point or another. We just have to work at it together.”

Jeff smiles, opening up his English textbook and digging around in his backpack for a pencil. “Alright, if you say so, Clay. Where should we start?”

“Wherever you feel like you need to start.”


	8. Sixteen

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A few notes before diving in, if you'd be so kind:
> 
> 1.) This chapter was the hardest fucking thing I've ever written in my life (and yes, I'm taking school essays into consideration). I wanted to do Hannah Baker justice as well as the canon plot, but I admittedly changed and cut plot points for the sake of time. I hope the final product is alright, as I rewrote this entire chapter SEVEN goddamn times and am ready for a good nap.
> 
> 2.) This chapter and the next one will be a little longer than the rest due to how much I tried to cram in. It's not a butt load longer, but noticeably so.
> 
> 3.) I'm not sure how many of you will care, but I feel the need to bring this up anyway: I've been going back and revising older chapters in this fic because I had no grammatical skills last year for some reason. I'm not sure why, but all of that mess is cleaned up now.
> 
> 4.) Canon divergence is the theme from here on out. I'm really sorry for those of you who liked how this lined up with canon so neatly, but after viewing season 2, I've come to the conclusion that I am, in fact, not a psychic, and very little of what I had planned out for this story matches up with what went down. I hope this divergence isn't too off putting to anyone :(

Clay meets the girl who is destined to both obliterate and beautify his world when he and Tony are sixteen.

The hurricane is set into motion during the summer before sophomore year. Clay has successfully managed to disconnect himself from the rest of the world. He spends the entirety of the three month vacation stowed away in his bedroom, reading depressing books and listening to even more depressing music. 

Such a hectic schedule of gloomy isolation combined with a lack of Vitamin C and social interaction naturally doesn’t fly with Lainie, and this leads to incessant nagging:

“Hey, come downstairs and put on your shoes! You’re going with me to the store!” 

“Why can’t you just go to the mall and find someone to talk to? Don’t your classmates hang around the food court?”

“Go outside, ride your bike, take a walk, just...do something!”

Lainie is none too subtle about her disapproval of her son’s apparent lack of interest in participating in life. She's concerned that Clay’s falling back into a depressive slump and slowly but surely neglecting all of his social obligations.

So she takes action. 

Said action is several flyers hung up on the fridge, all displaying job offers around town in bold, eye catching text. Every opportunity promises some sort of perk without fail, clearly hoping to rope in the teenage crowd. Target boasts of a thirty minute lunch break and free Wi-Fi, the pool promises unlimited free snacks every Friday and Saturday to vendors, and the summer camp claims to provide a lounge equipped with air conditioning, TV, and a foosball table for the counselors.

Clay is rather unimpressed, all-in-all. 

The thought of standing in a claustrophobic and sweaty food truck for hours makes him queasy, he doesn't think a mess like himself is at all qualified to counsel impressionable children, and the cashier thing makes him nervous...what if he packs the groceries into the plastic bag in the wrong order and ends up smashing someone's eggs? 

“Oh, look! You could take a two week course and get your lifeguarding permit!” Lainie says with forced enthusiasm. “Wouldn’t that be interesting?”

Clay tries his best not to squirm, because, holy shit, his mom has to realize that he has zero interest in standing around in a bathing suit all day, just waiting for people he knows to see him and start making snide comments about his boney body….

She has to know that, right?

Apparently not, because she continues to push the subject, even being bold enough to slip the form under his bedroom door later that afternoon. 

Clay gets the message loud and clear and begins to actively look for a job that won’t make him feel nauseous every time he thinks about his next shift. He doesn’t want his mom to be wasting her time worrying about him anyway, and he has been feeling a little lonesome all alone in his room lately….

Getting out might not be such a terrible idea after all.  
\----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

Tony used to think of his papa as a bit of an enigma; a grouch who spends copious amounts of time hiding away in the garage, tinkering around with various pieces of scrap metal and drinking lukewarm cerveza.

Now, at the sage age of sixteen, Tony thinks that he just might understand his papa, as he, too, has found himself seeking refuge in the garage as of late.

The garage offers a getaway from the stresses of life, even if only for a few golden hours. Tony appreciates this precious time away from his siblings’ bickering and his mama’s yelling, and he also very much enjoys working on his papa’s car and his siblings’ rusty, abandoned bikes.

Cars and bikes are easy for Tony. After years of watching his papa and uncles work on them, he has a pretty basic understanding of what to when under the hood or at the workbench, and it’s honestly a bit of a relief to feel like he’s in complete control of something in his life.

People, unlike bikes and cars, aren’t simplistic mechanisms that have a set of instructions with them. 

Tony can’t always put people back together with nothing more than his bare hands, and he can’t always ensure that they function properly. 

However, when it comes to a whacky A/C or a rusted bike chain, Tony knows for sure that he can amend the problem.

Tony hates problems that he can’t fix, they make him feel incredibly small and helpless. But when he’s staring down at a live engine that was dead as a doornail moments before, burring away before him, it makes Tony feel like he’s useful.

It makes him feel like he has the skill and power to do some good, and this feeling is a welcome change from the crushing guilt Tony’s been experiencing lately due to his nasty break up with Ryan.

It’s been over two months now since said break up, and Tony still can’t help but feel bad about how things blew up between them. 

Deep down he knows that he should’ve ended things early on, back when he first felt uncomfortable with Ryan holding his hand in public and kissing him without sexual intent. It really wasn’t fair for him to postpone the break up, especially considering how invested Ryan was...

Thinking about what went down between him and Shaver does nothing but make Tony feel bad, so the distractions provided for him by the garage prove to be useful. So useful, in fact, that he even takes up helping his neighbors and aunts with their vehicle woes.

His uncle Filipe, who appreciates his youngest nephew’s help fixing up his car, invites Tony to work for him part time in his hardware store. Tony accepts this offer, and dedicates his summer to learning all he can about the different tools and spare parts he’s selling.

Thoughts of Ryan and that mixed look that just spit venom and heartbreak in Tony’s face are pushed aside in favor of torque wrenches and extensions. 

After all, Tony figures that there’s no use dwelling on a battered relationship that never really stood a chance when he can focus in on a hobby that brings him joy and opens doors for him concerning future employment.  
\----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

Finding suitable work for an unskilled sixteen year old with severe social anxiety is hard, but no harder than Clay was expecting it to be, really.

The biggest problem is that Crestmont is a pretty small, tight-knit town, meaning that wherever Clay goes he’s bound to either be working with or serving people from school, and that’s really not a position he wants to be in.

But he has to find a job, for his own sanity and for his mom’s, too, so he settles like most of the American working class, and chooses what he considers to be his best option: concessionist and usher at the small, ugly theatre near the rundown ice cream stand. 

It pays decently enough, and the manager is easy-going, seeming happy just to have another set of hands on staff. There are currently only two other people employed at the theatre to clean and work the booth outside, meaning that Clay doesn’t have to try and acquaint himself with any friendly coworkers.

Lainie is satisfied with her son’s choice, as any activity outside the house that doesn’t involve drugs or sex is a-okay in her book. She makes a fuss over Clay’s neatly pressed uniform and name tag, and Clay simply smiles and agrees to play dress up for her when she asks him to try it on. He even grins and bears it when she starts snapping pictures of him like he’s wearing a graduation gown or holding his first born child.

Clay doesn’t have the heart to tell his mom that the suit makes him feel like a miniature circus monkey, perched on the ring leader’s shoulder as the crowd cheers for him to play the accordion. If his mom is happy, he’s happy, too. 

Or at least as happy as he can be when it’s someone else’s emotions he’s mooching off of.  
\----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

It’s a slow day at the hardware store, the minutes crawling by and taking their merry fucking time doing so.

Tony sits behind the counter, separating the washers and screws into their own tiny compartments and trying his best to block out his uncle’s annoying whistling from the stockroom. 

“Hey, you don’t look super busy.”

Tony glances over to see Sophia leaning against the counter, a huge smile stretched across her face. 

“What’s up?” Tony greets, although ‘what are you doing here?’ would be a more appropriate ice breaker.

Sophia never shows up to badger him at work, that’s an activity only Mateo and Dante initiate in anymore, as even Javier has become too busy between work and moving into his and Rosella’s new condo to drop by and be a nuisance.

“Just decided to drop by…” Sophia drawls mischievously, drumming her freshly manicured fingernails against the countertop. “It’s my lunch break, and I was wondering if you wanted to go grab a bite to eat.”

“Uh, sure…” Tony mumbles, still finding his sister’s presence and huge smile a little odd. “Let me just ask Uncle Felipe if I can step out for a little bit. What were you thinking about getting?”

“I want a burger,” Sophia replies, watching Tony disappear into the stockroom. “Maybe a milkshake.”

“Yo quiero una hamburguesa también,” Uncle Felipe says, meeting Tony in the doorway of the stockroom. “Vámonos al un restaurante de comida rápida.”

Tony nods, making sure to turn off the lights and lock the door behind him.

“I have coupons for Burger King,” Sophia says, digging around in her knock-off Vera Bradley purse. “Hold on, let me find them….can you hold this for me Tony?” She asks, thrusting a small, wooden box in her little brother’s direction.

Tony takes it without question, now noticing that his Uncle Felipe is smiling over at him in a way that resonates with how his mama used to smile at Tony when he opened up his presents on Christmas morning. 

Something is definitely going on here.

“Is that papa’s car?” Tony asks suspiciously, eyes landing on the familiar, dented Honda parked in the front of the nearly empty lot. 

Sophia frowns over at the car, swearing that she must’ve told her parents a thousand times to park in the Home Depot parking lot a few feet away and walk over as not to ruin the surprise...

“Maybe,” she admits, grabbing Tony by the shoulders and marching him along before he can ask anymore questions. 

“Maybe not,” Uncle Felipe chimes in unhelpfully, following his niece and nephew down the parking lot. “But speaking of cars….”

Tony quirks an eyebrow and is about to ask what the hell is going on when he spots a rusty and faded Mustang parked up against the curb, a pathetic, little bow adorning the hood.

“Oh my God,” Tony breathes, eyes going wide as he approaches the car, hands sweaty as he lays them on the door handle. “¿Esto es mío?”

“Sí!” Sophia exclaims excitedly, rushing forward and throwing her arms around her younger brother. “Mama and papa said that you deserved a reward for all of your hard work this summer, so Uncle Felipe, Javier, and I decided to chip in and get you the ultimate little pet project! The keys are in the box.”

“Do you like it?” Uncle Felipe asks with a knowing smile, watching his nephew continue to run his hands over the re-sold car like it’s a Ferrari fresh out of the manufacturer. 

“I’d say he does,” Mrs. Padilla chirps as she and her husband join the huddle. “Look at him! He’s speechless!”

Tony laughs deliriously and tries to speak, but nothing comes to mind besides a beyond grateful spewing of ‘thank you, thank you’.  
\----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

Clay hates parties. He always has, ever since the awkward birthday parties and end of the school year bashes from his elementary school days. 

Parties are awkward for Clay, as they involve casual conversation and mingling with loose acquaintances, both of which are weaknesses of Clay’s. 

He has no interest in standing in the middle of a classmate’s cramped living room, trying to yell over shitty club music while simultaneously attempting to avoid breathing in too much second hand smoke and Axe body spray.

But, despite his reservations, Clay now finds himself crammed in the back of Jeff’s car, smooshed in between an already intoxicated Sheri Holland and a six pack of cheap beer.

“C’mon, Clay, do me a favor and smile!” Jeff encourages, glancing back at his passengers in the rearview mirror. “Lets see a smile, just one.”

“I’m kind of uncomfortable,” Clay manages to choke out, wiping his sweaty palms off on his jeans and mentally cursing his mother for making him go.

The second Jeff texted him about Kat’s going away party, Clay had decided that he wasn’t going. Why would he go? He barely knows Kat, and he’d much rather stay in and rewatch a Lord of the Rings movie by himself in his room. But then Jeff, being fully aware of how much Mrs. Jensen pushes her son to be social, pulled a double cross and called the house phone. Lainie got to the phone before her son, and, needless to say, she decided that her son needed to attend this party.

“Relax,” Sheri whispers through a giggle, leaning over to give Clay a friendly shoulder squeeze . “You’re gonna have fun tonight, okay? Repeat after me: I, Clay Jensen, am going to party my ass off and not sit alone in a corner like a total loser.”

Clay stares over at Sheri in disbelief, fighting the urge to groan when she coaxes him to repeat her ‘non-loser’ mantra through a series of wild hand gestures.

“I’m not saying that.”

“C’mon!” Sheri urges, laughing again as Jeff hits a pothole. 

“I really don’t want to say tha-”

“C’mon, Clay!” Jeff shouts from the driver’s seat, honking the horn just for the hell of it. “I wanna hear you say it, buddy!”

“I don’t know, I-”

“Clay! C’mon!” Sheri whines playfully, slumping over in her seat and continuing to giggle.

“....Fine,” Clay mumbles through a sigh, pressing himself up against the box of beer to avoid Sheri’s flailing arms as the drunk girl begins cheering in triumph. “I, Clay Jensen, am going to attempt to have fun and not sit alone in the corner, even though I know I’ll really want to.”

“Close enough,” Sheri concedes with a shrug, managing to land a weak smack to Clay’s side despite his best attempts to put distance between them. “Just try to have a good time, okay?”

Clay forces a smile, gently leaning back over to try and prop Sheri back up in her seat. 

If she’s already this far gone from day drinking, Clay’s slightly concerned about how she’s going to hold up through the night…but then again, Sheri usually seems like a put together person, and it’s rumored that she parties pretty regularly. Maybe she’s just adapted to the lifestyle?

Clay soon learns that many of his classmates from all different levels on the food chain partake in this party hard lifestyle. 

Some participants’ presence don’t surprise Clay in the least. People like Justin Foley, Ryan Shaver, and Bryce Walker look like they belong among the throngs of obnoxious people, but the clean, well behaved likes of Courtney Crimsen and Sheri fucking Holland?

Clay supposes that everyone has a sort of wild side....his just involves crying about his insecurities while trying to convince himself to go to work.

“See, this isn’t so bad,” Jeff tells Clay reassuringly, purposefully finding a quitter part of the house to settle his nervous friend into, figuring that it’s better to slowly introduce Clay into the scene rather than thrust him into the midst of the chaos.

Clay shrugs, awkwardly settling himself down on the edge of the sofa and helping Sheri down next to him when she almost face plants onto the floor.

How she does this weekend after weekend while maintaining a squeaky clean reputation and honor roll status is unknown to Clay, but he can’t help respect her with a new sense of awe.

After all, she’s practically leading a double life.

“Do you guys want something to drink?” Jeff asks, rubbing his hands together in anticipation. “I think Kat has Bud Light and wine coolers, and I brought a pack of Miller Light.”

“Thanks, Atkins, but I’m a big girl. I can get my own drink,” Sheri says with a smirk and teasing wink, stumbling back to her feet and disappearing into the crowd.

“How about you, Clay? What can I get you?” Jeff offers again in a way that makes Clay feel like ‘no thank you’ isn’t an appropriate answer. 

But he tries to weasel his way out of this mess anyway.

“Uh, no thank you, I don’t drink.”

Jeff laughs, giving Clay a friendly shove and shaking his head. “C’mon, man! It’s a party, live a little!”

“I don’t drink,” Clay says again, feeling like a deer caught in the headlights of a speeding SUV when Jeff leans forward, placing a steady hand on his shoulder and shaking his head.

“Tonight you do,” Jeff says with a grin. “Trust me, man, if you need a little help relaxing, alcohol’s the way to go.”

“I’ve never drank before,” Clay whispers nervously, feeling more and more self conscious as the seconds tick by. He doesn’t belong here, he soooo doesn’t fucking belong here….

“I figured as much and prepared to deal with an alcohol virgin like yourself tonight,” Jeff replies with a knowing smile. “There’s some coke in my car. If you want, I’ll mix some Miller Light in with the Pepsi. A spoonful of sugar to help the medicine go down, right?”

Clay raises an eyebrow and laughs, shaking his head. “Are you seriously referencing Mary Poppins while trying to peer pressure me?”

Jeff smiles like a fool and shrugs. “What better way to get across to Clay Jensen than through classic literature?”

“Wow, you know me so well,” Clay deadpans with a small smirk, signaling to Jeff that he has successfully gotten his friend to relax. 

“Naturally. Two people don’t just spend ten hours a week together and not get to know one another on a creepy, borderline ESP level.”

“Yes, naturally,” Clay agrees with another laugh, rolling his eyes good naturedly as Jeff jostles him.

“So, what do you say to a nice cup of light beer and lukewarm soda?” Jeff asks again with a smile. “You up for the challenge, Jensen?”

“I can’t think of a classier way to lose my alcohol virginity,” Clay replies, simply smiling when Jeff nods and lets out a celebratory whistle. 

“Awesome!” He cheers, giving Clay a fist bump before jumping to his feet. “Wait here, I’ll be right back with your first drink. Should I take a picture for your mom?”

Clay laughs and rolls his eyes again before watching Jeff leave the room, not failing to notice how the baseball player is swallowed up by a crowd of friends and admiring fangirls the second he steps foot into the hallway.

Why Jeff Atkins has decided to treat Clay like more than a nerdy tutor is one of the world’s many unexplainable mysteries. Clay still remembers how surprised he had been when Jeff first texted him out of the blue just to say hi, and how even more shocked he was at the end of the school year when Jeff invited him to his house to hang out and play video games.

It would seem, for some bizarre reason, that Jeff actually wants to be friends with Clay. Hence the semi-weekly texts and invite to Kat’s party.

Which Clay now realizes he’s sitting at alone, awkwardly twiddling his thumbs as he waits for Jeff to return.

“Clay Jensen?! Holy fuck, I never expected to see you here,” Kat says as she strides into the room, hands on her hips and neck bared to sport a fresh, purple hickey.

Clay manages a smile, unsure how he’s supposed to respond. He doesn’t really know Kat at all, he only knows of her through other people, and what they have to say about her is usually unsavory in a sexual sense.

“You here by yourself?” Kat asks, plopping down next to him on the sofa.

“N-no, Jeff brought me.”

Kat nods and pops her lips. “Ah, I see. What a shame, I was sort of hoping you were here by yourself, because then my plan would be perfect.”

Clay, thoroughly confused, dares to ask Kat what the fuck she’s talking about.

“Have you ever watched a rom-com, Clay? When two lonely people meet at a party, sparks fly. I’ve got a friend here with me tonight, she’s using the bathroom so she’ll join us in a moment, but she’s new to Crestmont. I figured that if I got the two of you talking-”

“I’d woe her with my extensive knowledge of Harry Potter and refusal to make eye contact?” Clay jokes with a small, self deprecating smile.

“Jesus, the self esteem is high with this one,” Kat replies with a snort. “I was just thinking that you’d be more approachable than some of the other big fish here, that’s all. You’re a nice guy, right? Not a douchey, entitled jock or prissy asshole.”

“Aren’t you dating a douchey jock?” Clay asks, narrowing his eyes. He swears that someone said something about Kat and Justin Foley being an item….

Before Kat can reply with a heated jab, she’s all smiles again, her eyesight directed towards the doorway.

“Hannah!” She cries, waving her friend over. “Come, sit! This is Clay Jensen. Take a good, long look, because you’ll never see this boy at a party ever again!”

Clay can’t help but blush, looking up to catch a glimpse of Kat’s new friend, and feeling as out of place as he did when first entering the house, even when Hannah shoots him a smile before his eyes fixate back onto the beer stained carpet.

“Is this a historic moment I’m witnessing?” She asks, still smiling over at Clay with soft eyes. 

“Yes, my dear, it is. You will never spot this boy at a party ever again, I guarantee you,” Kat says through a dramatic sigh. “Now, do you mind observing this fine specimen by yourself for a little while? I haven’t made the rounds with my guests yet tonight, and I’d hate to be a shitty hostess.”

“I can entertain myself for a little bit,” Hannah promises with a smile and a nod, waving Kat off until the tipsy hostess makes her dramatic exit, calling for a heated game of spin the bottle in the kitchen.

Clay nervously bites his lip, staring at the living room doorway in hopes of Jeff’s swift return. Being left alone with a stranger is beyond uncomfortable, and he has no idea what to say.

“Your name is Clay?” Hannah asks, leaning back on the sofa and making herself comfortable. 

“Uh, yeah, yes,” Clay says with a nod, offering up his hand for a handshake. “Hannah?”

“Yeah,” Hannah says, taking up Clay’s offer and shooting him another warm smile that makes him blush. “I don’t know if Kat told you or not, but I’m new around here….you would have probably figured that out though, right? I mean, you know everyone else here besides me….that was dumb, let me start over again.”

Clay finds himself grinning and nods, watching as Hannah clears her throat and re-initiates their handshake, dimples forming in her cherry colored cheeks as she smiles.

“Hi, Clay, my name’s Hannah Baker. I’m from Modesto, and I just moved here last month, meaning that I currently have no connections or meaningful interactions outside of my house.”

“Ouch.”

“Yeah,” Hannah agrees with a nod. “This is the first time that my parents were on board with me going to a party. I think I’ve officially overstayed my welcome at my own house.”

Clay smiles because, holy shit, does he know how that feels. “Same. My mom wanted me to go do something with other people. I believe they call it social interaction.”

“I think that’s right,” Hannah assents thoughtfully, taking a sip from her cup and pulling a sour face. “How do people drink this? It tastes like cat piss.”

“I think it’s more about the statement of rebellion and maturity than it is the taste,” Clay admits with a shrug. 

“So teenagers drink for the same reason they have sex,” Hannah concedes aloud in a pensive tone.

Clay can’t help but blush, taken aback. 

Hannah’s bold, she’s casually bold, not missing a beat as she continues to talk about how teenagers earn their rap of being short sighted, but deserve a break from the harsh critiquing of adults who have forgotten what it’s like to be a kid.

Everyone deserves to be a mess every once in awhile, she explains.

In the middle of Kat’s hazy living room, Hannah Baker’s beautifully sardonic words and charm enchant Clay Jensen into a stupor. He nods and laughs along, hanging onto her every word as she invites him into her world, giving Clay an escape from the commotion around him.

They stay on the sofa, even after Jeff returns with Clay’s drink forty minutes later, talking and getting to know one another. 

The house party continues around them in full swing: people throw up in the kitchen sink, music plays loud enough to make the walls shake, and teenagers make shitty decisions with possibly horrendous consequences in suburban paradise. But Clay and Hannah are miles away from it all, on their own little cloud of miserable wit and misanthropy.

Clay feels warm from both the booze in his throat and Hannah’s thigh pressed up against his own as he explains how he thinks young adult fiction fails to connect to its audience due to its idealistic characters.

Hannah agrees wholeheartedly, stealing a mouthful from Clay’s cup as she tells him that it’s impossible to connect to hormonal messes through anything other than a hormonal mess that makes believably terrible mistakes.

Clay’s never been so engaged.  
\----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

Tony’s car is the new apple of his eye, as well as the envy of Mateo and Dante.

Tony puts hours upon hours of hard work and love into his Mustang, and has it fixed up nicely within two weeks. He gives it a paint job, performs an oil change with the help of his papa, and uses his paycheck to buy four new, all-terrain tires. 

Through Tony’s blood, sweat, and tears, the Mustang is quickly transformed from a dingy, run down lemon to a real beaut, something worth showing off with pride.

And Tony really couldn’t be more proud of himself, nor could he be more thankful of his family for getting him such a thoughtful gift. 

Tony never had anything that was just his growing up. Being the runt of the litter always meant that anything he owned used to be one of his brothers’, so knowing that someone else used to drive the Mustang only seems fitting.

But even though someone else used to drive the car, it’s still Tony’s car.

It’s all his, and Tony wants to flaunt it. He drives it anywhere he can; to work, to the grocery store, to pick up Rosella from work when she misses the evening bus...anywhere he can.

The Mustang is his baby, all of his hard work and dedication materialized. So when school begins again at the end of August, Tony is all too excited to drive himself there. 

“Nice car, Padilla,” Ryan tells him while he’s emptying his backpack into his locker before the first bell. “You work on it all summer?”

“Uh, yeah,” Tony answers, feeling awkward and uncomfortable as Ryan breathes down his neck. The two of them haven’t had any contact since their break up in March, and Tony doesn’t know what the hell to say.

Talking about his new car seems insensitive, yet he’s too scared to ask Ryan how he’s been. 

“It looks like you spent a lot of time fixing it up,” Ryan observes aloud with a nod. “You did fix it up, right? Rumor has it you’ve become quite the mechanic over the summer.”

“I did,” Tony confirms with a nod, shouldering his backpack on again. “It was fun.”

“Hmm,” Ryan hums absently, arms crossed over his chest. “Good for you. It’s a relief to know that you’re capable of dedicating that much time and attention to something.”

Tony feels his face heat up, knowing very well that the snark and pissiness of that last statement was completely intentional. He feels compelled to apologize again, just like he did that afternoon when he finally broke off their relationship, but Ryan’s already halfway down the hallway.

It’s clear that he has no interest in anything Tony has to offer these days.  
\----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

Clay doesn’t expect Hannah Baker to remember him.

He’s really nothing more than a face in the crowd, some guy who talked her ear off at Kat’s farewell party. She seemed to enjoy their conversation, or maybe she was just being polite, but either way, Clay doesn’t expect her to ever speak to him again.

But she does.

On the fifth day of school, Hannah catches Clay at lunch, sitting next to him at his usual spot outside. They exchange pleasantries and catch up. 

It’s nothing all that exciting; Hannah confirms that school at Liberty High is just as boring as school in Modesto, and Clay asks her how she’s been getting along with everyone since Kat moved out of state.

“I won’t lie, it’s been a little hard,” she replies honestly. “I miss her, she was the most extroverted person I’d ever met, and she managed to pull it off without being obnoxious. She lit up a room and owned it. Having her as a mentor was really helpful.”

“Did she introduce you to anyone besides me before ditching you here in hell?”

Hannah smiles and nods. “I know some people by name and reputation, but I don’t really have a grasp on them as people yet, you know?”

Clay nods sympathetically. “How about the lay out of the school? Can you find your way around yet?”

“I was given a tour a few weeks before school started but...it’s almost like I’ve developed spontaneous amnesia,” Hannah says with a comical quirk of her head. “I can find the cafeteria though, and I figure that’s really the only place I need to be able to find, right?”

“Absolutely,” Clay agrees with a smile. “I managed to get by, and I couldn’t find my way around the building until halfway through my freshman year. I got lost at least seventeen times, but every time I tried to ask for directions I started choking up. So….my freshman year was sort of a flaming garbage pile.”

“Sounds like it,” Hannah says, clucking her tongue in mock disapproval. “And all because you couldn’t ask for directions. What a shame, why are you perpetrating such a stereotype, Clay?”

Clay simply chuckles in response and sheepishly shakes his head.

“Well, I, as a woman, am not afraid to ask for directions,” Hannah says with an air of melodrama that makes it impossible for Clay not to smile. “So...can you tell me where I can get some decent soft serve around here? I’ve been dying for a celebratory cone all week.”

“Uh, yeah, I know a place, it’s right across from where I work. It’s called-”

“You can show me on Friday night,” Hannah says with a smirk. “I’ll pick you up in my dad’s car. What’s your address, sir?”

Clay gapes for a moment, lost in the dust as Hannah does intellectual cartwheels around him.

He has plans now, apparently. Holy shit, was he just asked to hang out? In such an unnecessarily witty way?

Wow.

Hannah simply smiles over at him, and if Clay could be further charmed by her, he most definitely is. She’s like a real life Holly Golightly, scratch the vintage 60’s look and replace it with trendy jeans. She’s enthralling, lassoing him in with her wit and beauty. 

And Clay’s helplessly caught in her snare.  
\----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

“I’m not that much of a car person, but I daresay that your car is sexy.”

Tony, in the middle of loading his bag into the backseat of his car, looks over his shoulder to see an unfamiliar, feminine face admiring his ride.

“Are you hitting on me or my car?” He jokes with a smirk, watching the girl smile easily back at him and shake her head.

“Neither, just admiring from afar. What kind is it?”

“Mustang. You have a car?”

“I’m taking the bus home, what does that say about me?” The girl asks with a sardonic smile that draws a laugh out of Tony.

“Ah, I see, still carless. I can give you a ride home if you want, you can pretend that it’s yours.”

The girl grins and nods, extending her hand. “I think I’ll take up your offer, kind stranger. I’m Hannah Baker, the owner of this gorgeous Mustang.”

“Hello, Hannah Baker, my name’s Tony Padilla, and I’ll be your chauffeur this afternoon.”

Hannah laughs as she slides into the passenger seat, setting her bag down at her feet. 

“Where am I dropping you off, ma’am?” Tony asks, more than happy to play along. He hasn’t had much interaction with anyone outside of his family in quite some time now, and Hannah seems like a nice enough person whos more than capable of holding up her own end of a conversation.

Even as an introvert, Tony requires minimal social stimulation.

“Baker Pharmacy on Hiddleson Avenue,” Hannah replies as she buckles up. “Do you know where that is?”

“Yeah, it just opened last week. You’re the pharmacist’s daughter?”

“No, I’m the mistress.”

“Ah-huh,” Tony hums with a smile, pulling out of the school parking lot. “Where’s your family from?”

“Modesto. Have you lived in Crestmont your entire life?”

“Yep, most people who live here have. It’s not a very big area and there’s really no reason to move here….”

“That’s exactly why we moved here,” Hannah counters. “It’s easier to run an independent pharmacy in a smaller town, not as many Walgreens or CVS stores to battle with.”

Tony nods. “Sure, sure. There’s a lot of mom and pop shops around here still. My uncle has a hardware store right down the street from the shopping center, and my aunt works from her apartment as a seamstress.”

“You hit me as more of a handyman than a seamstress.”

“You’re right, I can’t sew to save my life, but I do well under the hood of a car.”

“So you ARE a car person!” Hannah says in her best accusatory tone, adorned with a smirk. “Why don’t you go to trade school?”

“My mom and Dad want my siblings and I to all finish high school. Believe me, I wouldn’t be here still if it weren’t for them.”

“Same. Although…..I’d probably regret it if I dropped out. Not everyone can pull off the ‘crazy successful high school dropout’ thing as well as Kate Winslet and Johnny Depp.”

“Am I talking to a future actress?” Tony asks with a smile. “Should I get a signature now? I think there’s some napkins in the glove box.”

“I’m more interested in the behind the scenes of film making, like script writing and directing. Right now I’m working on a story about a mysterious, rugged man who has an infinity for cars and a bad case of loneliness.”

Tony quirks an eyebrow, wondering if she’s just bullshitting him or if she can actually read him that well. He decides its the latter when he drops her off and finds a post-it note pressed up against the glovebox, Hannah Baker’s number scribbled down on it along with a signature in fancy, twisty cursive.  
\----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

“You have an essay due in two days, Jeff, we need to focus,” Clay mumbles, trying his best to ignore Jeff’s knowing smile. “Seriously, open up your book, man.”

“Okay, are you seriously not going to say anything about your date last Friday? Nothing? You were all excited on Thursday afternoon, and now….did something bad happen?”

“No, and it wasn’t a date. YOU said it was a date,” Clay replies with a sigh, digging Jeff’s textbook out of his bag for him. “I just went out for ice cream with a friend, that was it. No hand holding, no flirting, nothing romantic.”

“It could’ve been romantic if you took my advice,” Jeff teases lowly. “If you’d just casually put your arm around her shoulders or paid for her ice cream-”

“I tried to pay for her ice cream, which resulted in her joking about going Dutch, and resorting to old cliches is not a road I want to go down,” Clay cuts in with a shake of his head, unable to bite back a soft smile. “But thanks.”

“No problem, man, just looking out for you. Speaking of looking out for you….”

“What?” Clay asks suspiciously, not liking that look on Jeff’s face, it reminds him of how Tony’s brothers used to look before roping him and Tony into a joy ride without their papa’s permission.

“There’s a party at Bryce Walker’s next week-”

“No,” Clay replies flatly, shaking his head and opening up Jeff’s book with a heavy thump. “One party was enough for me, thanks. I’m good until college now, I’ve had my high school fun.”

“Claaaay, c’moooon!” Jeff whines playfully, giving his tutor a friendly nudge. “You had fun at that last party, right? You met Hannah because I dragged your ass there, which means I already get dibs on being best man at the wedding.”

Clay rolls his eyes, but finds himself smiling anyway. “I don’t know, Jeff. Bryce Walker is kind of-”

“Look, he’s a total douche, okay? I’m not going to lie, as someone who spends an excessive amount of time with the guy on the field and at post game parties, I admit that I don’t like him. But the party isn’t for him, he’s just hosting at his gigantic house, which, by the way, has a fucking swimming pool and a game room.”

“I’ll think about it,” Clay says with a shrug, already having had made up his mind that he’s not interested in anymore parties. 

It’s true that he wouldn’t have met Hannah had he not gone to Kat’s last hurrah, but Clay hates rerunning what-if scenarios, they just make him anxious.

He already met Hannah, he already had his first shitty drink, he already had his first shitty hangover, so he feels as if he’s covered all of the bases concerning high school partying.

“We need to finish this essay,” Clay says again as Jeff begins digging around in his bag for his car keys. “Get out your laptop.”

“I will, but I want doughnuts. C’mon, man, let’s go do this at Krispy Kreme. You want glazed again?”

Clay nods and doesn’t argue, as almost every study sessions so far this year has ended in them sitting in a questionably hygienic booth at Krispy Kreme or Monet’s. They get the work done most of the time, but Jeff’s a gentleman, and he seems to enjoy the whole wine and dine deal.

Clay doesn’t complain. Free food is free food, and Jeff’s company is always appreciated.  
\----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

“I hate Monet’s,” Tony mumbles, sipping at his hot chocolate timidly, fearful of burning his tongue. 

“How can you hate it?” Hannah asks with a laugh. “It’s your run of the mill, hipster coffee shop. What’s there to hate?”

“My ex loves this place, and he used to drag me out here at least once a week to buy overpriced coffee.”

“Oh, your ex,” Hannah murmurs with a nod. “May I inquire who this ex is?”

“Ryan Shaver...you might know him from the school paper? He directs the poetry column.”

“We’ve met briefly, he’s in my English class,” Hannah says, trying her best to mask the look of surprise on her face, but failing miserably.

Tony can’t tell if it’s him being into guys or his particular taste in guys that has her thrown off.

“How long were the two of you together?” She finally asks after an awkward moment of silence, flawlessly regaining her elegance.

“Over a year, but I was never all that into him. He’s nice once you look past the arrogance and...excessive use of flowery language that makes you feel stupid, but I just wasn’t that interested.”

“The two of you don’t seem to have much in common,” Hannah says thoughtfully. “What kind of stuff did you talk about with him?”

“We didn’t talk a hell of a lot,” Tony admits with a sheepish smile, gazing into his cup of hot chocolate. “He was the first person I had a romantic relationship with, and despite it not being a super good experience, I learned a lot about what I need.”

“First boyfriends and girlfriends are almost entirely for the learning experience,” Hannah says softly. “It’s about learning about what we like and dislike in a partner, what we need from them and what we have to give.”

“I’m still not sure what I have to give,” Tony replies with a laugh, wincing at how self deprecating he sounds. “I enjoyed the physical aspect of what we had, I learned a hell of a lot about that sort of thing, but...I always felt guilty afterwards. I had a hard time getting to know him, and when he did reveal a part of himself to me...I felt pressured to open up.”

“Shy or just closed off?” Hannah asks, trying to catch her companion’s eyes.

“Closed off, definitely not shy,” Tony replies with a firm nod. “I guess I just wasn’t ready to date, and he was, and he was so, so invested...good morning texts, hand holding in public...I guess it was just more than I was ready for.”

“You didn’t love him,” Hannah says with a shrug. “You thought he was pretty, which he totally is, and he was an exotic creature in your little world. You were curious.”

“I don’t think anyone this young can love someone romantically,” Tony says lightly. “Teenagers are notorious for rocky romances, right? We’re hormonal and we make shitty decisions.”

“Agree to disagree,” Hannah replies with a smile. “I bet you were the one to break off the relationship.”

“I did. I did it face to face at that table over there, the one next to the window. It was awkward...but he was civil about it. I think he saw it coming, but enough about that mess. You seem well versed in teenage romance, Miss Baker...care to share?”

“I have minimal experience,” Hannah drawls playfully with a wink, dangling the bait. “Are you interested?”  
\----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

Work at the theatre has its ups and downs.

Weekdays are slow, giving Clay time to breath and collect himself, while Friday and Saturday nights are nothing more than a hectic blur.

Clay sees several of his classmates during the Friday night rush, and it’s admittedly awkward, because sometimes Clay can’t help but feel that he’s being granted a personal viewing of some of his peers’ lives after hours.

For instance, he knows that Justin Foley has moved on since Kat left, as he’s been to the theatre several times over the last three months, a different girl in tow each visit.

He knows that there was some sort of falling out between Courtney Crimsen and Alicia Lauchburgh, as the two of them used to go see a movie together every Tuesday night, and now Alicia shows up alone.

He knows that Hannah has made friends on her own, as she and two other new kids to the area, Jessica Davis and Alex Standall, come by every Sunday afternoon to putz around in the arcade and snack on popcorn.

It’s this last bit of insight that has Clay interested, because a teeny, tiny part of him can’t help but feel the slightest bit jealous, and he’s not entirely sure why. 

Hannah deserves to have friends, she’s funny, kind, and charismatic, so it’s only natural that she’d attract other people. She’s definitely an approachable person, after all, and a good conversationalist...but Clay still finds himself feeling dejected, which he knows is completely unfair. Hannah still talks to him on a weekly basis, she sits with him at lunch on Wednesdays when Alex has jazz band rehearsal and Jessica has her mandatory weekly cheer luncheon.

She still makes time for someone as awkward and forgettable as himself, despite having had made friends who are ten times more interesting, funny, and sociable, so Clay wonders why he’s jealous at all. 

He shouldn’t be, he tells himself firmly, shaking his head in disapproval. He’s just being selfish.

“Do you ride your bike everywhere?” Hannah asks him one Sunday afternoon as she pays for her bucket of popcorn. “I see it outside of school and the theatre every day.”

“Uh, yeah. I don’t have a car, or even a driver’s license…” Clay answers with a shy smile. “So it’s sort of my only option unless I want my dad to drive me around everywhere like I’m fourteen.”

“I like your helmet,” Hannah says with a grin. “I can always tell it’s your bike because of the helmet hanging off of the handlebars and the reflective tape all over it.”

“Better safe than sorry,” Clay replies with a shrug. “Although, the tape was my mom’s idea.”

“Well, it’s all very safe,” Hannah asserts with a firm nod of her head. “There’ll be no risk taking on Clay Jensen’s watch.”

Clay snorts and shakes his head. “Risk taking is how you end up with a gambling addiction or seven malnourished, unvaccinated children to five different mothers.”

“Very bleak, Helmet,” Hannah teases, the nickname admittedly taking Clay a moment to process. “Risk taking is also how you end up with the job you’ve always wanted or the perfect life you never even dared to dream of.”

Clay’s lips stretch into a faint smile and he shrugs, waving Hannah off when Jessica and Alex come looking for her.  
\----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

“Isn’t that Clay?” Mateo asks with a smile, peering over the shoulders of the man in front of him to get a proper look at the concessions stand. “Tony, that’s him, right?”

Tony squints over at the counter, too, and he can’t help but let out a pleasantly surprised laugh.

His childhood best friend is indeed working the concessions stand, sporting a shaky smile and keeping his eyes fixated on the movie advertisements on the back wall to avoid direct eye contact.

“Yeah, that’s him.”

“He’s grown since I last saw him. Bet he’s taller than you now,” Mateo teases, always equipped with a comment about his little brother’s height ever since Tony seemingly stopped growing last summer.

“Maybe,” Tony mumbles, ignoring his brother’s jab in favor of trying to come up with an appropriate greeting for when he and his brother get to the front of the line. It’s been far too long for a casual ‘hey’, and yet they don’t really have any time to catch up, what with Clay being on shift and all.

“Jensen!” Mateo shouts with a wide smile before Tony can so much as open his mouth. “How’s my brother from another mother?!”

Tony cringes and rolls his eyes, but Clay seems flattered by such a greeting, cheeks bright red as he allows Mateo to give him a series of high fives and fist bumps. 

“How long have you been working here, man? The manager treating you right? ‘Cuz if not, you know my brothers and I have always got your back.”

“Uh, I started a few weeks before school started, and yeah, the manager’s pretty cool, actually. So, uh, no need for….any violence or anything...”

Mateo nods. “Good, good. Well, I’ll be taking a raspberry slushie if that’s okay with you. Tony?”

“Hey, Clay,” Tony says, nudging his brother out of the way. “I’ll take a medium coke….how’ve you been? I haven’t talked to you in like….”

“Forever?” Clay finishes with a soft smile, one that Tony hadn’t realized he’d missed seeing so terribly until now. “Yeah, it’s been awhile, huh?”

“Yeah,” Tony agrees. “You free anytime soon? We should catch up.”

“I can do Mondays and Thursdays,” Clay offers. “Just let me know what works best for you.”

Tony nods, taking his drink as Clay hands it to him and trying to think of something else to say. He has a lot to tell him, actually, but the line behind him prohibits him from getting too deep.

“I’ve missed seeing your smile,” He says simply, wondering how stupid and cringe-worthy that sounded. He tries to catch himself with a shaky, “Have a good day.”

Clay smiles again, making brief eye contact with him and repeating the last sentiment before the next customer in line steps up and silently demands Clay’s full attention.  
\----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

Out of all of Justin Foley’s squeezes, Hannah Baker is by far the most oblivious.

Most girls who open up the can of worms that is Justin Foley are at least marginally aware of what they’re getting into. They know about the drug fueled, abusive upbringing to an extent, they understand his dependence on Bryce Walker, and they have a hunch that the only thing they are going to get out of the entire fling is sex.

Hannah knows none of these things, and when Clay tries to talk to her about it, she gets the wrong idea.

“What’s wrong with Justin?” She asks, leaning over the counter with a confused look on her face. “Do you even know him?”

“I know of him,” Clay replies, peeling off his plastic gloves as he finishes cleaning up the popcorn machine. “He’s….challenging. I don’t know if you should…you know, get too involved.”

Hannah smiles, but it’s clear that she’s not pleased. “I think I’ll get involved with whoever I want to. But thanks, Helmet.”

Clay blushes and furiously shakes his head, babbling nonsensically for a moment before finally managing to reign in his erratic tongue.

“I-I didn’t mean it that way, I just meant….it was just advice, that’s all. Yeah, yeah, of course you can do whatever you want….that’s none of my business.”

Two weeks later, when Clay receives a picture from an anonymous number via text of Hannah with her legs spread, panties on display, he instantly feels feverish and sick to his stomach.

The picture is all over Liberty High by the following Monday, and Clay isn’t sure what to do.

He had deleted the photo within minutes of receiving it once he figured out who it was of, and he still can’t help but feel sick when he thinks about it. Does Hannah know about the picture? Did she consent to having it taken? 

“She’s a slut,” Clay overhears a girl hiss to her friend during study hall. “She literally just got here, and she’s already fucking every guy she can get her paws on.”

“Some girls are just desperate for attention,” her friend replies with a haughty sigh. “She’s just a whore.”

Clay feels his blood boil, and all he wants to do is jump up from his seat and set these girls straight. He wants to tell them that, no, Hannah Baker is not a whore, she’s not fucking every guy she can, she’s actually a kindhearted, funny girl with standards and emotions.

But Clay doesn’t have the guts.

They probably wouldn’t believe him anyway, as they seem more than content to gossip back and forth without any outsider’s input. Any other view of Hannah Baker other than that of a heartless slut would be rejected.

“You’re just jealous,” they’d sneer with a laugh, and poor Clay wouldn’t have a rebuttal.

Because they wouldn’t be wrong.  
\----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

The picture fiasco doesn’t die down for a month, and by the time it does, Hannah Baker has transformed from the funny new girl from Modesto to the notorious school slut.

Girls whisper to one another in hushed voices that reek of disapproval when Hannah walks down the hallway, some even going as far as to roll their eyes at her and make unkind comments about what she’s wearing.

Guys seem to think that it’s okay to blatantly stare at her now that everyone has labeled her as ‘easy’. None of them consider how Hannah feels about having several pairs of eyeballs glued to her ass and chest as she goes about her day, and it has become commonplace to make openly sexual statements about her body.

Clay feels bad, so bad that he actually finds himself crying about it a few times during that awkward stage between REM and semi consciousness. 

Things for Hannah seem to be falling apart left and right, and Clay isn’t sure what he can do to keep it all pieced together.

Jessica and Alex ditch Hannah a few days after the notorious picture is made public, and Clay isn’t sure if it has anything to do with the picture or not, but he doesn’t dare ask. Regardless of why Jessica and Alex decide to leave Hannah in the dust, this falling out between the three newbies causes Hannah to begin sitting with Clay at lunch on a daily basis.

And, much to Clay’s surprise, Hannah says nothing about the incident.

They don’t talk about the picture, they don’t talk about Justin, and they certainly don’t talk about Jessica and Alex. Clay isn’t sure if he, as a good friend, is supposed to try and ask about these troubling areas of Hannah’s life, but he’s too scared to. Even if Hannah wanted to talk about it, Clay isn’t sure what the hell he’d say.

Sorry doesn’t really seem to cut it.  
\----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

Tony learns quickly that trouble seems to follow Hannah Baker like a reliable shadow.

Within four months she’s burned at least a dozen bridges due to a handful of scandals involving promiscuous pictures, rumors of her stealing other girls’ boyfriends, and issues with guys harassing her.

Tony doesn’t know how to help her. 

He knows that Hannah hasn’t done anything to deserve the maltreatment she receives at school, she is the victim, after all...but Hannah has the tendency to feed into the drama.

Tony hates admitting it, but she does. She nurses the turmoil time and time again through fiery reactions and shamelessly flirting with bad situations.

Hannah Baker, as nice and well meaning as she is, has a nasty habit of pouring gasoline over open flames.

She storms into the guys’ locker room one Monday morning, demanding to speak with Alex Standall, and she simply flips everyone the bird and storms back out when they refuse to give the target of her fury up.

She corners Jessica in Monet’s despite them already having had had a nasty falling out, and is genuinely surprised when it ends poorly.

She tries to befriend gossips like Ryan and Courtney, which seems like a trainwreck waiting to happen given how juicy of a story Hannah seems to be at the moment…

Tony doesn’t blame Hannah for any of the misfortunes that befall her, of course not, but he can’t help but feel that her judgement is seriously skewed at times. She’s high drama, and, by association, high maintenance. Regardless, Tony tries his best to be a good friend to her. He lends a patient ear and a shoulder to cry on as often as he can, but even Tony, defender of the weak, can only give so much before feeling burned out and drained.

He starts ignoring Hannah’s texts while he’s at work, convincing himself that if it’s serious enough she’ll call him.

Tony feels guilty about doing this, but he needs time to recharge, and Hannah tends to leave him feeling empty and tired.  
\----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

“So, will you show a rookie the ropes?” Hannah asks with a smile, still fussing with her nametag. “Any insider secrets that the new girl on the job should know?”

Clay smiles shyly and shakes his head, still wondering if he’s dreaming or not. It seems too good to be true for the girl he’s helplessly infatuated with to suddenly start working at the dumpy theatre with him. Surely, if Hannah Baker were to get a job, she’d be selling overpriced tank tops and ripped jeans at the outlet mall, not standing behind a greasy concessions counter, joking about mouse droppings.

Definitely a dream, Clay decides, nodding to himself. 

“How did you work here before I came along?” Hannah asks after several minutes of stiff silence. “It’s so quiet!”

“Sometimes quiet is good,” Clay replies with a shrug, wondering how lame that statement makes him sound. 

“True, true, but everyone needs to hear their own voice now and again,” Hannah says, fiddling around with several boxes of Mike and Ike’s, stacking them on top of one another and building a tower . “So...let’s hear yours, Helmet. Tell me something.”

“What do you want me to say?” Clay asks nervously, caught off guard by the spotlight suddenly being thrust onto him. 

“Anything. Tell me a story.”

Clay swallows thickly and nods, spurred on by Hannah’s encouraging smile and attentive gaze. He clears his throat, awkwardly drumming his fingers against the top of the butter dispenser as he starts telling her about the time he and ten year old Tony Padilla ripped up his back yard by using a broken down wheelbarrow as a sled. Hannah giggles as the story progresses, unable to picture meek, mild mannered Clay doing anything he’s not supposed to. She insists he tell another story once he finishes, and is delighted to learn of Clay’s other childhood exploits.

And so starts Hannah and Clay’s conversations, the meaningful ones that will haunt Clay’s dreams in the following years, playing through his head in both comforting and mocking manners.

They share stories, they share interests, they share movies and music, and they share secrets.

Hannah tells Clay about the joys of young adult life that he typically overlooks, forces him to watch obscure romance films from indie fests that make him cry, and takes him up onto the roof of the theatre during night shifts to star gaze. She romanticizes Clay’s dull world, she simplifies it, unravels the tight knots of habit and lets them freely dangle in the breeze.

Clay tells Hannah about Roman and Greek mythology, explaining the stories behind all of the constellations that light up her eyes. He talks about the subtext of her movies with her, analyzes the fluff novels she assigns him to read, and introduces her to his music.

They listen to the Mountain Goats and the Front Bottoms together and talk about life’s miseries, they sneak snacks out onto the roof at night and build towers out of the empty boxes. Hannah names their creations after their favorite constellations.

They bond, and Clay falls further and further under Hannah’s spell. She never brings up Justin, Jessica, or Alex, and she brushes off the rampant harassment at school, even when Clay tries to bring it up. She seems happy, she seems confident, and she doesn’t seem to give a damn about all of the petty shit at school, which Clay fiercely admires.

Clay falls in love with her, and he wishes more than anything that he was brave enough to kiss her up on the rooftop during their stargazing sessions or in the passenger seat of her dad’s car when they drive home after night shifts.

He loves her, he loves her in a way most insecure, lost teenagers wouldn’t be able to understand. She’s his ray of sunshine, his guiding light. She’s shown him a side of life he would have never found on his own, and Clay is beyond grateful.

“What are you doing over spring break?” Hannah asks one day after a spirited game of tic-tac-toe, rubbing their eraser-drawn game board off of the countertop with her palm.

“Not much,” Clay replies with a shrug. “You?”

“Well….I bought a ticket to the Spring Fling, but I’m not sure if I want to go or not…”

Clay raises an eyebrow, thoroughly confused. 

Hannah lives for social events, she likes school functions and the poetry club meetings that she attends twice a week. She’s a social butterfly, so a night of twirling around in a fashionable dress that’s sure to draw envy and admiration should be right up her alley.

“I don’t have a date,” Hannah finally explains after a solid minute and a half of watching Clay pull various confused expressions. “I would feel weird showing up alone, especially given how few fans I have at the moment, so…”

“Oh! Are-are you asking me to go with you?” Clay asks with a hesitant smile, butterflies swarming around in his ribcage. 

“Yes,” Hannah answers with a wink. “Would you mind escorting moi to the fling?”

Clay wants to say yes, he really wants to, but...the thought of going to a school dance makes him want to throw up. Kat’s party oh-so many months ago had been hard enough for Clay to get through, and a school dance is certain to be four times as crowded and loud…

“You don’t have to say yes,” Hannah assures him gently, although the disappointment is evident in her voice. “I know that it’s nothing personal, just your agoraphobia.”

“Uh, yeah,” Clay breathes out, biting his lip and feeling guilty as hell. “But...would you consider doing something else with me?”

Hannah beams and nods exuberantly. “Of course! What fun is a dance if you’re going alone, anyway?”

Clay sighs in relief and smiles to himself. 

Even if he could survive the thick crowds and lack of elbow room at the Spring Fling, Clay doubts he’d be able to relax with Hannah Baker, elegant as always, hanging off of his arm. Hell, Clay doesn’t even know how to dance…

“Do you think you’d be willing to go to Eisenhower Park with me on Saturday night? We could enjoy the ambiance, get our butts wet on the damp slides, and then complain about being cold,” Hannah suggests, toying with her ponytail. “Does that sound good to you?”

“Yeah, totally.”  
\----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

It’s Hannah who finally kisses Clay under the stars as they huddle for warmth at the bottom of a wet slide, the bottoms of their jeans thoroughly soaked.

“I’m sorry I couldn’t take you to the dance,” Clay whispers impulsively the second Hannah’s lips brush against his own.

He’s terrified, caught on the spot in a situation he wants but doesn’t know how to handle.

Hannah smiles softly at him, face illuminated by a nearby street lamp. 

“I know, but you don’t have to be. I know you, Helmet, let it go.”

Clay flushes, heart pounding away painfully in his chest as he tries to take what Hannah said with a grain of salt. Hannah knows parts of him well, almost too well, but she doesn’t know how much of a mess he is, how he’s supposed to be on meds, how he wanted to fucking kill himself when he was thirteen…

But Hannah knows how socially inept he is and seems to understand. She seems to like some of his better qualities, she thinks he’s sweet and funny and misunderstood.

“I really like you,” Clay blurts out, tongue feeling thick and threatening to stick to the roof of his mouth. “You’re….you reminded me of all of these different heroines from these classic movies and books when I first met you….can you tell I’m a virgin?”

Hannah laughs and shakes her head, arms snaking around Clay’s shoulders and pulling him flush against her. She smells like rain and kiwi shampoo, her breath ghosts across his cheeks.

“What’s so bad about being a virgin, Helmet? Haven’t we talked about negative stereotypes concerning sex before?”

They have, at length, discussed negativity surrounding sexual activity and how it affects people of different genders, ages, and sexual orientations. Clay should know better than to degrade himself for something as trivial as sex in front of Hannah.

She kisses him again, lips firm against his own as she guides his shaking hand to her hip. Her lips curl into a smile as she shifts against him, hearing his erratic heart beat. 

Clay keeps his eyes closed the entire time, afraid that if he opens them, all of this will go away, Hannah and the park vanishing into thin air. Hannah’s hands on his shoulders and lips against his own are the only things grounding him, keeping him connected to the real world.

“I’m cold,” Clay mumbles, shivering as a breeze picks up and blows Hannah’s hair into his face, causing her to giggle. 

“Me too,” Hannah says simply, voice still warm with laughter. She cups his face and kisses him on the nose. “Scoot a little closer.”

Clay does, finally finding the bravery to run his hands through her hair and press his lips against hers, initiating a kiss for the first time in his life. Hannah seems proud, daring to slide her tongue, warm and wet, across his bottom lip.

“I don’t know what to do now,” Clay admits breathlessly, hand still rooted in Hannah’s hair and forehead pressed against her shoulder. He’s still a bright shade of red, even with the cold wind batting against his face.

“You don’t have to know,” Hannah replies, pulling him down to lie beside her on the slide, the water seeping through their jackets. “That’s half the fun.”

Clay feels himself smile against her collarbone, carding his fingers through wavy strands of hair and wondering if the world around them has stopped spinning.

When he voices this question, Hannah assures him that it has.


End file.
